Tonight, we went to the bookstore and sat on the fringes of the café area. Laurie was absorbed in his stack of books, and I was absorbed with keeping warm, slipping my bare legs between his. The lighting and atmosphere were perfect, and they had a little ensemble playing that sort of light jazzy style that I enjoy so much. Regular café music ( Read more... )

Dear Huyck ( Read more... )

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My first impression of Virginia was yellow. Not the full, shining yellow of the South that one might’ve suspected from those romantic stories, but the pale, lurid yellow of a winter sun on plain after tumbling plain of grasses, fenced by steep ranges of grey mountains. The yellow of your eyes, melting like butter in my gaze. And the archaic yellow ( Read more... )