Konstanz

When I woke up this morning, it was snowing. By the time I left the indoors, shiney sun and wet sidewalks.

On the nine hour train ride yesterday, I read for about an hour. The rest of the time I just gnawed on the various foodstuffs I had picked from the train station grocery store, and stared out the window, daydreaming. I wrote the strangest things in my diary.

Something I saw on the way here jerked back a memory from when I was younger, much younger. It was a factory or something, it doesn't matter, with a smokestack (is that an outdated term?) breathing enormous masses of white steam into the air. The clouds were perfectly formed to welcome the white bellows into their masses. They were low to the ground, but distinctly white and individual. I saw it and thought of a building I used to drive past, in the back seat of my parents' car. With no idea what happened in the building, I called it The Cloud Factory, and I almost really thought that's why it was there. It was either on the way to San Francisco or to Fort Bragg -- I feel like it was the latter, but I can't imagine where on that route it was. If it was on the way to San Francisco, it's the place I now call Atlantis, because I think it has a particularly submerged look. I mean, I can imagine finding it while snorkling.

I bought peaches, blueberries, and cardamom. When those ingredients blend with honey, deliciousness ensues.