Last night, we stayed up late planning our move to Ecuador. This morning, San Diego.
By the time we sat down to lunch, we had made our final decision about Florida.
Over afternoon tea, we practically signed an agreement regarding the Virgin Islands.
Naturally we ended up on the couch watching a documentary about Brazil, a fire crackling in the wood stove.
Me, throwing myself against you like a slobbering Saint Bernard as the snow hushed up this fitful town.
You, making another remark destined to become a classic, while the icicles outside
closed in on their objective of connecting our roof with the ground,
the clock ticking its wheels over the little bump of midnight.