A perfect day for the bourgeoisie

24 Jun

It really is a perfect day in what is becoming a more and more perfect world. The home is becoming more and more homelike, Seagull is happy with her nest and we’ve spent a glorious morning running about the apartment before toddling off to discover a greengrocer nearby run by two old spaniards (Seagull’s OCD-esque watching of Dora the Explorer brought an adios from her) and a playground of hidden delights where we bumbled about until the rain fell.

We walked back under the falling mist, bags under our arms, and just marvelled at the beauty around us a a plane flew overhead and the cityscape peaked through a framing of trees. Now, the seagull is doing her worst impersonation of a nap while I await the arrival of a friend with a new vintage of organic extra extra virgin olive oil for my use.

I am at peace.

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