For the first time in our current ward and precinct,
spatch and I did not have to prove our identities before voting tonight. The difference was magical: instead of Kafkaesque obstruction which our papers could only provisionally resolve, we were presented with ballots, which we cast and were out of there in five minutes flat. We had earlier in the evening enjoyed dinner from Guru the Caterer, which only took us seventeen months of walking past on a regular basis to try rather than just inhale like a beggar in a folktale—admittedly for almost half that time I was medically prohibited takeout. I rejoice in a local source of goat curry, especially on nights when the combo includes the option of palak paneer and roti and rice and pickle into the bargain, which is most of a thali without the plate. I had never actually seen bread pakora in a restaurant before and probably would try it. I am still sufficiently new to eating from restaurants again that it feels like a treat each time.
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- 1: There's nothing here but echoes
- 2: If I'm hoping, then I'm hoping for the frost
- 3: There's no boat to take me where all the stars go to cross the water
- 4: Once you know it's a dream, it can't hurt
- 5: All the ghosts, some old, some new
- 6: The wind is blowing the planes around
- 7: Let the lights run like rivers all over my skin
- 8: I am bound to these shores, I'll be bound till the end
- 9: Wish everyone could hear when she sings
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- Style: Classic for Refried Tablet by and
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