Wednesday, November 13

I walk down to the kiosk by the Temple to buy some eggs. I have decided omelettes and boiled eggs might offer a diet that will not pierce my allegedly fragile post-operational gums, and thus infect my mouth.

On the way I stop to look at an informal cluster of abandoned refuse. Beer bottles pop up in almost any place, and once a couple nest there and others automatically follow until one day they all disappear.

This cluster has grown noticeably in the time since we arrived last month. Perhaps it will soon seem ripe for harvesting.