Heirloom tomatoes, broccoli rabe, and gruyere croque monsieur with a side of crispy bacon and a fresh squeezed oj. #mamasroyalcafe #home (at Mama’s Royal Cafe)
There’s this one house on our street, a few blocks North, whose garden is in a perpetual state of blooming explosion. There’s a little wooden swing on the front porch and on some days you can find cats lounging in the domestic jungle. Every time I walk by it, weaving my way through peonies and roses and lavender, I can’t help but slow down, breathe in the moist garden-fresh air, and smile. #home
La Mer; eggs, fresh crab, avocado, hollandaise plus a bottle of champagne and pitchers of mango and pomegranate juice. #home (at Zazie)
City aint so prestine. SF 2013.
Today my heart is achey.
It aches for lives I cannot live. For people loved and lost, and those tumbling out of my hands, like sand slipping through the cracks of my grasp, my heart, my life.
It aches for an undetermined future. For a past I miss. For a present I don’t understand.
And all I can tell myself, over and over, as each heavy drop rolls down the length of my cheek, is that this is temporary, that I will be home soon, and the future will unfold, and I will remember the feel of my own skin, and there will be love and laughter and the instinctive grasping of tiny hands around my weather-worn fingers.