MulticulturalismTonight for supper I had a bit of Peruvian red beans, long simmering on the stove all day in the way of the Bayou, sitting atop a fluffy bed of Carolina rice. Next to that sat a fat pork chop, done up in a way that can only be described as Tuscan. There on the table, beading in the warm air of the kitchen, an open bottle of good English ale. As I made slow and good work of all of that, I listened to the Dutch world service on a German radio set. I think the salt was French. It is sometimes good to go all out with dinner.
(I do not speak Dutch. And I still don't have a dog.)
Mrs. Compass gave me some Chopin; it is stumbling comfortably through the rooms of the house, sticking out a small tongue at the deep, cold stillness outside the windows, finding good forms in the curves of the ceilings.
Think I'll go make a coffee.
All content under copyright by the author. Dancing is permitted. The strange deltic glyphs in the sand under tidal flow are a pleasure to watch in their deepening. Offer not valid in Kansas. We put it down and then we lost it. It all happens in the corner of the eye. Mail accepted for the bears in the basement. We have a dog, but we do not own it. Thank you.