Lunch

Violent winds have mellowed outside. Studio is so porous that "inside" is a generous term. Cold permeates the corrugated metal wall. I walk past covered painting stacks, and hop on the wall ledge to force a pane open to allow in modest gusts. The fabric window cover is thrown to the ceiling. Shadows flail exposing cool bright outside. A play of white's personalities -- cool blue, warm yellow, murky brown. Each reveals somethign about each other. A captivating diversion until the sun descends and rats enter along exposed metal ceiling beams and window gaps. They wait for the relative darkness of my departure to interrupt the floor dust with delicate paw tracks.

Fluorescents loll at chain end. The view of sun is as much as I can take, in my post-review state. I've had to sit near the Kleenex box on the amtrak so days in a row. Studio is grim. The brownie, tea, and Mediterranean sandwich discovery just two blocks from school is a needed one. Sweet, savory, without too much external warmth.