The unexpected hour
This is my last maple tea bag.
In my mind this time had already been signed away for other things, but things get postponed. The typical attractions have worn out for the moment, which is fine by me since they aren’t really that attractive to begin with. Instead here I am.
Tourist trinket though it may be, it’s hard to otherwise find a good ceylon blend. This maple tea from its little wooden box, Earl Grey with lemon, and peach green are the staples of my winter diet. I’m much more comfortable wrapped up in layers upon layers with tea in hand than coaxing a few more kelvin out of my heaters. It’s only kinetic energy, and I hardly need that burrowed down in the depths of my couch.
All the books lying around have been read, so the afternoon has passed with pictures, both still and otherwise. A picture can’t be worth a thousand words, since there’s no way I could describe everything in them with words at all. They’re just little coloured pixels, right? Laughter on the street, feet in the sand of a tropical beach, a kiss above Nagasaki. Pixels on a computer screen, neurons firing, molecules reacting, electrons moving.
There’s kinetic energy in my tea, too.
