I feel orange, without oranges.
like sunny day without the sun that beats down. warm light falls on the worktop and eduses my seams of hope, that goes out and fawns.
my little Berry (my little baby-girl) learns how to use her own voice. from me. and she sqeals.
I drive me hope away. Berry sqeals when she’s fine and wrong, when she’s hungry and frisky. she doesn’t only during eating and sleeping.
I edgily turn the oven on. I will persist in doing this soup. and exactly that I planned. with roasted pepper.
the child have fallen asleep. the soup had a chance to proceed.