we made tiramisu yesterday afternoon--much simpler than i thought it would be--and brought some to share with the neighbors as we watched moonrise kingdom.

i think i've outgrown the enchantment of wes anderson's fairy tales: i was not nearly enamored with it, as my neighbor lady was.

the thought of fairy tales, however, did make me think about those people that i no longer speak to but think of. they rest in my mind, quickly recalled for reasons i am poor at guessing. each is associated with a strong emotion, and wash me with it in each visit, obscuring my apparent path. they are strung through my life like irregularly spaced pearls. i have my own pantheon.