November 6th, 2003

abstract butterfly


A shiny counter, a shiny quarter, whole milk, real chocolate syrup, luscious vanilla ice cream, the spindle-extension shake machine, a giant metal cup, a huge spoon, a real blending, a service person's smile, the tall mirror behind the drug store counter.

I remember a time when things did not come in pre-packaged dollops, dispensed from machines more suited to hydraulics than heaven. I remember when things made by hand were not "gourmet", but instead "ordinary".