And so it begins.
A quiet night at home. First, a day of writing. Then a drive along the boardwalk, towards the Maga Circe, clouded by November rain. Some housework. Some errands. Dinner now. Something simple.
Zucchini flowers from the vegetable vendor, each stuffed with a cube of mozzarella; beer batter; Prosciutto Toscano from the deli.
Nobody here but us piggies.
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