Sunday Morning in Kensington

I ate my entire breakfast. Four buttered halves of some compact and perfectly-square loaf of commercially-baked whole wheat bread, two small round pieces of peameal bacon, three over easy eggs, and a nice mixed green salad with a light vinaigrette which I sprinkled with siracha sauce. I sat there and ate my Sunday morning post-Saturday night much needed comfort meal at KOS in Kensington as couple number one arrived and couple number two arrived and couple number one left and couple number two left. I sat there with my book and my breakfast and blankly but contentedly ate the whole thing. It was good. Then I took my coffee and paid my bill and sat on the patio in the warm Autumn wind and drank my coffee and took a photo of the red and yellow and orange leaves that had fallen from the trees overhead and had gathered into a pretty pile against the brick wall. It was nice. Then the rest of the world began to wake up and invasively dot the peaceful landscape. So it was time for me to go.





À propos de Stina

If I could tell you about me in a neat and tidy definitive statement, I don't think I'd be writing this blog.
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