Skint

I’m skint. But, I’m not hungry. The fridge is stuffed, and there’s even a bottle of (cheap) wine for the weekend. In the backyard, nettles are growing, and spinach, and the rapini is starting to shape up. On the kitchen table are these particularly lush calendula flowers, and lavender. Rose geranium leaves are in water near the window. It doesn’t feel poor. Just quiet.

I’m trying not to pluck the baby radishes.

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