orchards in the fall

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images from an apple picking adventure with the boy in upstate new york. favorite memory from this day: climbing back into our car after hours of successful apple picking and orchard-exploring, falling asleep with the windows rolled down after snacking on one too many apple cider donuts, sounds of happy families and the cold fall breeze drifting in and out. 


nuages gris

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Day and night
I always dream with open eyes
And on top of the foaming waves
Of the wide turbulent sea,
And on the rolling
Desert sands,
And merrily riding on the gentle neck
Of a mighty lion,
Monarch of my heart,
I always see a floating child
Who is calling me!

- I dream awake, Jose Marti

sunday dinner at pizzeria delfina

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burrata with crostini and arugula salad

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spigarello with lemon, garlic, and chili

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broccoli raab, caciocavallo, mozzarella, olives, hot peppers, sausage pizza

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ricotta cannoli

still thinking about this perfect sunday dinner at pizzeria delfina in the mission district during my trip to san francisco. as a new yorker i'm a little spoiled/jaded when it comes to good pizza but this place was kind of all around perfect. definitely would go back to re-enjoy that phenomenal burrata, the pizza, the wine, and about fifty pieces of those hand-rolled cannoli to go. 


imperfections by the shore

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getting back into the rhythm of city life after a whirlwind two-week escape to california. still finding that i'm digesting the bits and pieces of these trips that were important to me while also trying to hold onto the tiny bit of zen i rediscovered. these pictures are from a beautiful saturday afternoon spent at fisherman's wharf in san francisco - talk about a picture perfect day: weather was in the 70s, blue skies and wispy clouds scattered about, and our lunch of unforgettably delicious fish & chips and fish tacos.

currently digging into murakami's kafka on the shore, love this excerpt below:

That's why I like listening to Schubert while I'm driving. Like I said, it's because all his performances are imperfect. A dense, artistic kind of imperfection stimulates your consciousness, keeps you alert. If I listen to some utterly perfect performance of an utterly perfect piece while I'm driving, I might want to close my eyes and die right then and there. But listening to the D major, I can feel the limits of what humans are capable of - that a certain type of perfection can only be realized through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect. And personally I find that encouraging.”
― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore