Weekly state: brewing.

Gotta let off some steam if you’ve been cooking all day.

My cauldron is full of good things. Herbs and spices, thoughts and an extra portion of love for life. Bitterness just to balance it, I am not a fan of sweet indulgences. Simmering away, slowly becoming something that resembles pudding in viscosity. The smell? As an olfactory passionista, I can be enticed by many things. A bit of smoke, a mysterious appeal. Perhaps the smell of incoming rain on a dry heath. Maybe the smell of fog in between the trees in the forest in winter? Moss. Cheese. Beer. Anything pickled. You remember?

I can’t wait for what I have been brewing here. It’s not ready yet. Unfortunately, I won’t know, when the exact point in time will be to unleash this beast of a potion into the wild. Into myself.

I feel its warmth, its depth. I know. I am sure.

But now please let me be. I need to squeeze some thoughts into this juice. You can leave the door open. I’ll come out when the cauldron is full and I am done.