A Black Bird, a Petal, a Ticking Clock
a meditation on time
Friends! Today I’m experimenting with a new form of creative nonfiction: the lyric essay. Your support is what enables me to unleash my inner artist through pieces like this one. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And special thanks to new paid subscribers Reta and Janice—welcome. I am so glad you are here.
A quick bit of housekeeping: travel guides for Portugal, Guatemala, and Egypt are coming your way in early April. These will be for paid subscribers only. It’s been awhile since I’ve had so much fun writing something—each one let me go on a journey through my memory—and I think you’ll love them. If you’d like to come along, please subscribe or refer a friend to get free access.
Now onto the good stuff!
Saturday, mid-morning. You slurp the foam of a cappuccino at your breakfast table and pick buttery croissant flakes off a plate, sticking them onto the pads of your fingers and placing them on your tongue. The day out your kitchen window is crisp and clear—a good time for a walk around the garden, you think, to inspect the unfurling first blossoms of spring.