Last night, meaning three hours ago, because I checked our upside-down clock light projector, I dreamt of writing a story of 150 words. It was only a snippet of an image, but it stuck. You know how that is, sometimes night memories linger upon waking, and sometimes not.
When I fell back to sleep, another vision prodded, of our French coffee thingies. Below is the real assembly line.
The first photo is today’s finished product.
It is now 6:14 AM, and I’ve been writing for over two hours. I’ve yet to check the New York Times or The Economist, so that’s a sign my writing muse is in the house.
On the lap desk, in a red Moleskine notebook propped under my right arm next to my MacBook, is an open page listing dates for photos I will use in two writing projects, neither of which was this one.
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