radiant fracture

I am sitting at LB's kitchen table tidying various scraps of work in the hopes of having a clean plate when the giant meatloaf of final marking drops there on Thursday.

I am drinking a small glass of beet kvass, which LB brews in jars on her counter. This is not the kvass made of fermented rye bread. There's nothing in the jar but beets, water, and salt.

"And time", says LB. And time.

The final liquid (inasmuch as it has a final state -- like all fermented drinks it's a process, not a product) is a deep, almost glowing fuchisa.

It's not like anything I ever drank before I drank it, but it's very refreshing: cool, earthy, slightly salty, and tingling with fermental stew.


( A Tale of the Gym and a Death Post-told and Ulysses )

( A Tale of -- Zombies? Fire? Cookies? )

After the gym, we made a run by the late-night grocery. S. wanted breakfasts and I'd forgotten to get cookies for my classes. It is presentation week and therefore it is also cookie week.

So that was my Sunday -- zombies, death, and cookies. And time.

{rf}