Outside it's twenty degrees with barely a wisp of wind. Perfect walking weather, if you're wearing enough wool. My face gets that chilled numb feeling quickly, otherwise I could walk for miles.
Desperate not to cook tonight, and not liking my options near by, I bite the bullet and try one of the local chinese places. I've been avoiding them for two years now, but options are slim and time is short. Proprietress sitting in front of an electric space heater and wearing a coat (that kind of night). She takes my order and shouts something back in cantonese. I realize how much I miss hearing shouted cantonese. The food is as awful as I expected, but I could eat here on a regular basis if they would just keep shouting across the kitchen.
12,000 miles
for this?
1 comment:
What are you doing in New York?
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