New jar, deconstruction

It´s a chili end of October.

I have left home on a quest:
to buy hot baguettes.
At this time in the morning
it´s just fresh air
and the smell of bread.

My stomach starts a mini-concert,
that sometimes sounds like questions.

Dead leaves on the ground,
shoes squashing,
smashing it to pieces.

Visible cute deconstruction
dry crunchiness under my feet
but I can´t hear a thing.

Pascal Comelade´s album is on repeat.

New jar of marmalade at home.
Shall eat it.

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