Saturday, September 25, 2010

WHIPPED CREAM IN 1994

Our kitchen was gloomy. The table with the cloth, the chairs with the seats and the windows with the curtains. All flashing in brown. I was sitting on the counter next to the sink, holding a white whipper in my sticky hand. I used to eat the cream down from my fingers. It tasted much sweeter in that way - I didn't like the flavor of the spoon. I hate them both by now.


.

.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Powered by Blogger.