Travel, kitchens, and the long way home
The first stall opened before the sun cleared the roofs. I bought peaches that still smelled like leaves and a loaf that cracked when I tore it. Some days the whole trip is just that: fruit, bread, a bench, and nowhere to be.
Two burners, one dented pan, too much olive oil. I keep a list of meals that work with almost nothing: eggs on yesterday’s bread, tomatoes with salt, coffee that is slightly too bitter. It is enough.
I left the camera in the bag for an hour and just counted side streets. The useful pictures showed up later, when I stopped looking for them.