my kitchen

i propose that there is nothing better for the soul than sharing a conversation, a very large bowl of home-made spaghetti bolognaise and a six pack of pilsner – here, in my kitchen, in the softening light and quiet. nothing that is, except the realisation that neither one of us want the night to end.

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8 thoughts on “my kitchen

  1. thanks all. if i could, i’d have you all over for a pasta party. we could talk shit, get drunk and complain about the things in life we can’t change. then we’d watch the sun rise at dawn and forget about everything that never mattered.

    • I had a dream last night and that’s what happened – stayed up all night with some old friends from school and when I woke I was so tired because I hadn’t been to sleep. Red wine would go well as well with your nice poem. Is all that running mellowing you out a bit?

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