This is really embarrassing*, but (as a passionate blogger) it’s not going to stop me from posting. Commitment. Just do it.
So proud of myself for this little recipe I came up with today, I think the Universe was like: “hold on, you really are going to take pictures and THEN eat, even though you’re starving??”
Well cheers, Universe, now I’ve lost my appetite.
I was going to, but then I slipped and fell. Hey, at least I was holding on two plates and none of them broke.
But I don’t want to bore you with details, so I’m going to write down this easy-peasy recipe for a great wholesome lunch.
Fallen Pasta salad
cooked pasta, of course
lots of ripe avocados
salt & pepper & chilli flakes
white sesame seeds
cooked beetroot (if it’s a bit spicy, even better)
and if you fancy, feta cheese
It’s really simple, once you have the pasta and the beets. Just pretend you’re doing a guacamole: smash the avos with lots of lemon juice, salt, pepper, chilli flakes, nutritional yeast and sesame seeds. Then, add the olives, the beets, a bit of olive oil and you’re done: pour it over the pasta. Sprinkle extra seeds, fresh basil and feta. Ta- daaa!
*I promise I’ll come back with a nice plate.
bobby is smoking his cigarette outside the shop he’s got
tattoos from god knows what ancient time
what is your dream?
I could live anywhere in a big city in a small farm in the countryside in the mountains
at the seaside
I really don’t care
I could travel to your dream place
bobby has his name tattooed on his neck
bobby has these insecurities like dodgy off-licence shops
in bethnal green which is la great area lovely atmosphere
you came to me whispering I heard you wrote some poems like a drug dealer would ask you want some dope? my hands were
I said sure anytime you want but then I realized what if you don’t what if
I’m still waiting
your laugh was so genuine I haven’t heard anyone laugh like that in a very long time
bobby doesn’t have a car
he used to drive when he was younger now he’s taking the train
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where is your soul? it is (in) my whole body, like a circle in a poem
or a song
“where you heading, little lamb?” my grandpa used to sing
you’re in this circle; what’s it made of? what do you see?
I can’t see anything but emptiness and silence and it’s not me, it’s me at 12 years old
and I can’t see my face but you can
I’m alone with the circle right in the middle of it; it’s drawn on a wooden floor, maybe walnut
and it gravitates like a planet around the sun, this floor floats in space like I used to float in my dreams above the houses
my face is my soul my whole body and in this circle there’s just a tiny figure that I imagine being me
Primrose Hill, London
When summer hits you in the face, hit it back with a cold, comforting gazpacho. I made mine in less than 5 minutes, randomly adding green stuff in the blender: half of a ripe, healthy avo, a quarter of a fresh cucumber, mint leaves, half of a green pepper, lots of lemon juice and a splash of olive oil, two tiny garlic cloves and a quarter of red onion, salt & pepper & chilli flakes, cashew milk+ water. The result was beyond my expectations. So I treated myself with a raw lunch in the garden.