While wind and engines pull boats directionless, my book of recipes lure me deeper into context and hunger.
I am but lost in words, when thoughts of you find me; drowning in French food and the lights of Paris, as the sound of water laps upon the shore below.
I reminisce the last couple of days, catching glimpses of quality time through text, wishing I could sail back to the opportunity to see you once more.
And yet, as you steal glances from this book, I ponder that perhaps it’s not really you that I long for, but the thought of you.
Keystroke Stories 