I rescued these last week from the bin. The people I work with must either think I’m really weird, or a proper scrounge, but I just couldn’t watch them be needlessly thrown away.
For years, I’ve seen these willow stems being sold in the market back home, but I’ve never really, you know, touched them – but oh my, they are so soft, and unbelievably comforting. I’m also pretty sure that they’re called pussy willow, which I think, with my childlike mindset, is absolutely fantastic.
So yeh, for a good twenty minutes I’ve just been nuzzling my face against the catkins as I stare at all the work I have to get through for tomorrow. But you know what? I am so chilled, everything seems to be okay, all my troubles have been brushed away by these fluffy little creatures.
Melody of the Recipe (.. or whatever you’d call this)
James Blake, Retrograde
–Because nighttime is quiet time