[When seagulls glide over the shore, dust dances in the breeze, and the sun warms every quiet corner of the small yamen, life feels gentle and unhurried.]
Spotting a tiny thrush (the Chinese word 栽 sounds like it, plus other characters, for fun) bouncing and calling, its fluffy tail swaying softly in the breeze by the wet pond!
Just finished a live stand-up set about how my cat thinks she’s a stand-up comic too—turns out, she only roasts tuna. Crowd’s snorting, my rent’s still due. Perfect Friday.