A Moment in a Belfast Kitchen (Prose)

This is not what I should be writing.

I should be writing the second paragraph for an article about data in healthcare I’ve been distractedly languishing over longer than I should have. Productivity has had a sputtering start this morning.

But I’m sitting in a beautiful kitchen with stock on the stove making the whole place smell like Chicken Noodle Soup for the Body. I just made tea. As I coaxed its color to the surface with a little tea spoon, a correctly ambiguous blend of a splash of oat milk with just the right steep time, that phrase came to me (coaxing the color of my tea) and I needed to write it in a blog post.

Spotify sings its song from my laptop and the sun is deciding how furtive he wants to be outside.

And maybe this is what I should be writing anyway.


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