At Sea Level

Down from the mountains since less than a week and the air seems thick and intentions unclear of all that surrounds me.  The nature here, in this neighborhood, is cultivated, and to be sure it’s lovely rather than harsh, but the aims implicit in the way things grow is rather an imposition than an expression of what would be true had things been left to grow as they do in the mountains, in the wild.

That said, it’s again turning inward, and vegetarian meals I’ve been preparing reflect a desire not to muck things up too much.

We’re talking no brainer gazpacho, fried eggplant in a spicy Sichuan sauce and sesame seeds, and corn stuffed ravioli.

Getting closer to what grows and is harvested rather than numbed and slaughtered.

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