Letter to a Glass

Hi,

I am crushing over you, you exquisite piece of art, Bodum. For the first time my whiskey came second to the glass I had it in. It was a neat peg, topped with three ice-cubes and served perfectly by the responsible twin in a delightfully light glass. So wondrous it felt that the drink wiped away my general depressed state of nose-blowing and my eyes widened at the amazement of the double-bodied glass. So strong, so ergonomic.

I have always had this thing for kitchen knives and my collection is rather remarkable. But this? I need to be loaded to buy a pair. I will. I am pretty sure I won't be able to enjoy any drink anytime soon unless I have it in a Bodum (Pavina). I was prepped to get happy high tonight, dance some in the rain, enjoy rare moments of letting go, but it all went bambam with this beauty. I am restless, infatuated and I needed to write to be able to sleep. Forget drunk.

I am crazy about watches and fountain pens and kitchenware. You can alter the order to your preference. I also love my drink very particularly defined. It makes me a very difficult person I assume? Perhaps. But I thoroughly enjoy my roadside clay cup of tea too, which I bring in and paint and soon break. I feel I am those pieces. Like I earlier mentioned, 'the parts are not equal to the whole'.

It just needs affectionate handling. I like affection. I harbour it towards a bunch of special people. May be I can venture into writing to/about them. See you in tomorrow-town!

Handle with Care,
K.

Till then, this is what I have been crushing over:

Give me Poison, and I will drink it up!