Consecrated, shy Saturday rays.
There’s just something about stuff on toast. Sometimes, it’s not just about the smushing together of peanut butter and jam. Oftentimes, a more savoury and nourishing hat rattles the old engines and breathes life into mornings. So easy you feel guilty. But guilty at pleasure’s stake.
A fork affair. Moist avocado ‘crumbs’ and the warm tang of fresh, halfway-there compote.
For the possibilities this world holds when it come to breakfast. The sacred routine of waking up, pondering a little, hovering a little, before either following a set recipe, or perhaps just mixing unexpected ingredients together, just for the sake of amateur experimentation, laden with a golden hope.
Ready to learn.