Peter read the last entry, and was horrified that I could've forgotten a crucial almost-food.
Tag: dreams
Ha.
Funny: a lobby full of clowns in a hotel I passed earlier today here in Merida--clowns at rest, chatting, smoking cigarettes, puffing up their orange Afros.
Banh Mi, but Don’t Blame Me
Last week, as I was stuffing the world's best snack, the banh mi, the Vietnamese sandwich specifically from the dark little hole under the Manhattan bridge that's open only five hours a day, down my gullet in a frenzied urge to maximize the sweet-hot-crispy-gooey-meaty-veggie taste sensation, I was also contemplating how it is that I'm chronically late.