Roasted for an hour at 425 degrees these eggplants are shrived & charred to the world. Inside, a creamy & sublime wonder. Simply add cropped garlic & fresh red onion. Nothing else. Nothing more.
If we could see the insides of our alphabet (all 26 letters) what poem would be written? How would our speech differ? Would I still love the word "perhaps?"
Ah, when nightshade speaks, pay attention!
In the background an industrial toy, grating, incessant
ReplyDeleteIn her mind, a backyard of lavender, the fountain fixed and running