A few weeks ago, I claimed I was just sane enough to realize I didn’t have the power to conjure the objects of my thoughts. (I was in the mood for macarons and they appeared before me.) But what if it’s the object of an author’s thought that has been conjured?
A few days after I conjured the macarons, I was having breakfast at Fuller’s on NW 9th& NW Davis in Portland’s Pearl District. It’s an old-school diner with counter seating only.
6:01 am is too late to be first.