Ocean Trout sashimi cured
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I did not manage to share all the photographs from my birthday celebration with Joel last week. The evening unfolded in a gentle crescendo, each of the thirteen dishes arriving as though part of a carefully choreographed feast—small artworks set before us in steady rhythm. I have now posted a handful of those images, fragments of a night where candlelight, conversation, and culinary abundance combined to form a quiet tapestry of contentment. The colours, the steam rising from warm plates, the hushed clatter of cutlery—each detail returns to me with a soft, lingering clarity, as though the celebration still flickers in the background of my days.
In the week that followed, life settled into a muted cadence. Nothing much stirred in the realm of hobbies or personal pursuits; the air felt still, as though the world had briefly paused to inhale. My mind drifted between tasks without urgency or direction, finding its anchor instead in the gentle company of three Netflix series. They filled the silent hours with borrowed stories, their episodes weaving themselves into the margins of my evenings.
There was something almost consoling in that simplicity—in allowing myself to be carried along by the quiet, by narrative instead of activity, by rest instead of aspiration. It was a week both unremarkable and tender, shaped not by accomplishments but by the ease of letting the days unfold exactly as they wished.
Sony A7RV
FE 16mm f1.8
Linking Treasure Tuesday
