web weave about sharing food and a home with someone? <33

in a week by hozier // holly warburton // perhaps the world ends here by joy harjo // kitchen tables by peter pereira // ? // denis sarazhin // chewing gum dreams by michaela coel

while walking the streets of the neighborhood nearest to my apartment, I spotted a woman crouching in her front yard. she smiled and waved me over. "these are persimmons!" she showed me, "see, you don't pick them off the tree, you pick them off the ground once they're ripe." she gestured to the small, soft, orange fruits littered around her. "would you like some? here, I'll get you a sack. the ones from this tree are firmer," she rambled as she gathered handfuls of the fruit before disappearing into her home for a paper bag. as she returned she instructed me, "don't wash them, just a quick rinse will do." I thanked her profusely for her gift and she just smiled and said "no, thank you. really."

I barely got myself out of bed this morning, have been struggling for weeks with basic tasks due to my depression making an ugly return. some days I sleep for 16+ hours, just wishing the day would end. I teared up as I walked away from that woman's home with a small sack of ripe fruits. the kindness of a stranger can be so overwhelming, so healing. love is real and it is stored in the persimmons.

Man With Fruit is God

As I stroll down the streets of the farmers market. A man steps into my line of view and asks me, “ Would you like an orange ma’am?”

“Yes, with the weather that’d be a blessing.”

He starts to peel it for me with his hands. There is juice leaking, making his hands sticky. He looks up at me,smiles and continues. I watch him. I watch until he is almost done and a pile of orange peels sit in front of him. The sun is hitting his fruit stand right now. Everything is orange.

I remember I have to pay. The man sees me reaching for my wallet and stops me. He holds his hand out. His hand sticky, my hand dry. I grabbed my now unpeeled orange.

“On the house, Ma’am. Food can be it’s own currency, especially if given in love. Pay it forward. Have a beautiful sunny day.”

I smile at him and thank him. Before I leave, I take a good look at him. He has no shoes, ripped clothing, and he is very thin. He was poor. He had dark brown eyes. He had laugh lines. A sign of a life well lived. His hands were clean. He was happy, despite. God, how so happy I was to see. Peeling an orange, an act of a love, a form of currency.

Along my walk, I notice a beggar. He is young, small, a child. He looks hungry. I walk over. I split my orange in half, juice spilling down my hands. I hand it to him and he smiles the widest smile I have ever seen.

I did not give him money, I gave him food. Half an orange. It was peeled with love. It was given with love. It will be eaten will love. It will come back to us, as love. On a hot sunny day, half an orange is its own currency.

We eat our half, gently. Together. I watch him. He eats it slow, tasting everything he can. People walking all around his, but right now all that seems real is me and the young boy. I watch as his hands become sticky. I look down at what’s left of my orange. A small fruit. A big difference it can make in lives.

The sun hits my eye, I see orange. As I put the last slice into my mouth, I think about how the orange is the most beautiful fruit of all. My mouth bursts with the taste of orange. The world is orange.

love is stored in the kitchen

ダイナー  [“diner”] (2019) dir. mika ninagawa (via @jueki​) \\ czesław miłosz new and collected poems 1931-2004: “elegy for n.n.” \\ @floatingstirnerhead​ \\ しあわせのパン [“bread of happiness”] (2012) dir. yukiko mishima \\ trista mateer honeybee \\ @whsprings​

buy me a coffee

Quick dessert doodles bc drawing food is fun and I'm experimenting

Me when shiny

kim is such a funny little guy like he emphasizes how little the rcm salary is when you ask about it (5500 reál annually- 460/mo) but here he is with his nice electronic sports watch and his little instant camera and his fancy revolutionary cosplay for plainclothes and he's living in the GRIH which can't be cheap and he's got his fancy little mnemotechnique notebooks which are like the moleskine of elysium i guess and his fancy little ballpoints that he does NOT want to share with you which i bet is because they cost him like a week of salary. and this is the rcm he's not getting stipends for supplies or watches or housing or probably even the gas for the kineema. poor as fuck but he is going to buy himself his little treats god damn it. if he lived in our world you know he'd be out getting himself a $9 vanilla soy milk half caf dirty chai iced latte every morning on the way to the station and eating instant noodles every night to claw out room in the budget for it

there are some things in the world that, when you attempt to make them yourself instead of buying canned or jarred, you wonder how the hell anyone figured out how to eat it in the first place.

artichokes are one such thing.

did a silly little sketch earlier in class today since i just realized how nagito has a pocket chain

i love fruit. wish the stores sold them ripe so they would actually taste good

🧅🥦🥬🍅🥔

have you eaten yet? (I love you I love you) do you want a snack? (I love you I love you) what's your favorite food? (I love you I love you) can I make you a cup of tea? (I love you I love you) can you help me with dinner? (I love you I love you) I'll bring you some soup for the cold (I love you I love you) I made these and thought of you (I love you I love you) I'm sorry for your loss, take this it was my mother's recipe (I love you I love you) congratulations! let's celebrate with dessert! (I love you I love you) can I get you something to eat? (I love you I love you) no one can make it like my grandmother's (I love you I love you) I made sure it was dietary restriction friendly for you, I hope you like it (I love you I love you) love is stored in food (I love you I love you I love you I love you)

Love is stored in the baklava

on love and food

ella risbridger in the kitchen: essays on food and life (via @girlfictions​) \\ aimee nezkhukumatathil lucky fish: “baked goods” \\ anne sexton hurry up please it’s time \\ dean young bronzed \\ elinor wylie wild peaches 

kofi

you're in the kitchen hummin'

the absolutely Vivid reality based chronological dream i had last night. man

extremely petty example of the 'one versus the other' soukoku headcanons that i mentally hate on for no particular reason and immediately stop paying attention:

dazai prefers hyper-sweetened not-coffee where chuuya likes it black.

^^ i disagree!!! not really because i think the reverse. I honestly think both of them would really enjoy sugary food