We hit the pub.
We hit Weird Al.
Not literally hit. I mean he was playing at the amusement park.
We made’a the mozzarella.
We played with little deep-fried octopodes.
We played with beetroot waffles and chèvre yoghurt.
Sweden had different titles for Mark Twain’s novels…
Five people accompanied me to Metz. Two people made it to the second song.
Batch #2 of Boo-Hoo is ready. It tastes like cherries.
Vetemjölk is ready. It tastes like wheat.
Homemade mezze is the best mezze.
Damn dog, she gets into everything.
Google and The Future makes it possible for me to read Swedish books.
And now: Flower’s Autumnal Adventure.
The air is brisk; the leaves are crisp. Flower walks at quite a clip.
She shares a cinnamon bun with Belle.
They share a kiss; time stands still.
But Flower is still hungry, as hungry as can be.
She enters the apartment. She tries to eat kitty.