‘Animarum’ Jonathan Zwartz plays through the third red Riddoch Coonawarra
Friday night in early June. No need for Adamson’s peppermill, so flavoursome was
Carol’s chicken soup, complete with Bega Tasty on sourdough. Now to survey the
table in my claret-cheeked unwind, a week of invoices, stack management, and
orders, including the Merton martyrdom book. Carol returns to laptop, crossed
tees and dotted eyes on Brendan the Navigator paper for tomorrow. An oblong
phone rests by a placemat, quiet as night. The bowl of oranges and lemons waits
for breakfast. Miss B., absented with impending viral bug, asleep elsewhere,
dreams weekend.
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