Plant(s). My youngest little brother has taken to growing plants in questionable containers by his windowsill, a feat I had never accomplished though I daydreamed of and romanticized it often. They are two baby tomato plants.
I would tell you their names, but I have not been home frequently enough to familiarize myself with their acquaintance. Before I knew it they were quite grown.
I imagine soon they will make their homes in the earth (the kind attached to other earth, and not confined in a container) as I already feel cranks in my bones thinking of how they must wish to stretch their roots. They will be situated next to the rose bush, a curtain of lemons sweeping beside them.
In my bathroom I rediscovered a fake sad flower that I’d known for years.
Loneliness personified. (Flowerified?)
Starting (hopefully before) this weekend will be Islam-y feminist-y business as usual.