This covers the week of 10/13/19 - 10/19/19.
Her cooked vegetables are in autumn colors: moist purples, tender shades of orange and gold.
The windows of the plane are tinted, so that the clouds look like they're dipped in blue. Soon, the plane tilts and soars over the water, which is all dark except for silken spills of light, like shifting dunes, where the clouds have cracked open to admit the sun.
I show her a song sheet she gave me years ago. She sings quietly with tears in her eyes and says, "I came from a warm household. Poor, but warm."
There are wild parakeets in the park. They look like bright, chattering leaves that have peeled away from their home trees and now go where they wish.
They arrive in homage to a religion they lightly practice. They feel that some traditions are worth preserving, at least for their kids.
Just because I use the expression "relatively small," she guesses that I have a research background.
Two men – pot-bellied, slow, gentle, sure, with ruddy, cube-shaped heads – discuss weight loss. "You know," one says to the other, "losing 50 pounds is like strapping a sack of potatoes to you and walking around with it all day. It takes effort."