Saturday, October 5, 2019

Week in Seven Words #479

It's a bleak, grand landscape of bare earth and massive rocks.

The bookstore is underwhelming, basically a shrunken Barnes & Noble with a selection watered down to what's most trendy. One of the things I like about bookstores is coming across a book I wouldn't have known about otherwise; that isn't likely to happen here.

A teenaged boy plucks a bud from a magnolia tree. "Is this opium?" he asks his friend. An old lady, walking past them, snorts with laughter. She tells them to come back in a couple of weeks, when the beautiful opium will be in bloom. ("But is it really opium?" he asks. She shakes her head and explains that no, it really isn't.)

They've turned a part of the park into a meadow with mulch paths. The long grass is soaked in sunshine.

Around the rock clusters, the stream looks like a ripply diamond-paned window.

A blister is ballooning on my pinky toe, but I don't mind so much, because it's good to be hiking.

She complains how he's glommed onto her, and how he won't stop talking, but she has no problem using him to carry her coat, camera, or backpack as the need arises.