Healdsburg. Its own character. Where I want my office, where I’d love to have my own tasting room, pouring my wines, selling my books, and smaller projects, having lunch here at Oakville while always using this patio as my office, whether there’s people here or not. Finding more and more this is my city, my Hemingway-is-to-Paris, or Frisco-is-to-Kerouac.
Look at the fire then my sparkling water, hear woman walking behind, into store, her soles making that loud blocky sound. She walks in, I imagine to get coffee, and one of those cranberry-orange scones.