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Desktop light play with my milk glass.
View from my bed into the kitchen.
Our bafroom. Tight 'n bright. My personal basket is the middle of the three. Behind me is the shower, which isn't a shower in the sense that I know. Rather, it's just a showerhead and a curtain to section off the area. The water (ideally) drains along the floor under the sink. When I'm finished showering, I have to squeegee the walls and tile.
My new second favorite coffee/bookshop I've found so far. I couldn't get a picture of my first favorite since it was more crowded and I would have felt dumb. That one has a top floor of seats along the windows, which make for excellent people-watching. The bottom floor is cavelike -- dark with many shadowed couches and flickering candles. Very romantic. A good place to copulate over lattes, or caffulate, as I like to call it (which then begs the question of what it would mean to de-caffulate).
Indoor vines at the Carlsberg Brewery. SMELLY.
A small stream (attractive, but perplexing) separating the lobby floor. I actually saw a dignified man run across by accident and then run away with his pant leg dripping. Hohohohoho.
On the walk to the old brewery.
The magic of fermentation.
Some beerz.
More beerz.
I made a new friend in the stables! Meet Ipoopedonyourfaceanddidn'tevenknowyourname.
FREE beerz and sandwichez.
Visual evidence of the bag I wrote about. Lest you think that my struggle was less than I made it out to be, and if the presence of the Advil bottle does not prove scale, let me remind you of an essential fact: I am weak. One thing for which I regret being unable to furnish photos (seeing as it would be impossible) is the many jokes about my name I've heard since my arrival. Apparently we DIS students brought winter weather with us. Jon, I'm thinking of your Michelle Kirstin Avalanche?!(My roommate and her boyfriend are up and about, preparing to leave for Egypt (read: abadoning me). I'm in my room typing quietly in the dark, doing my best impression of a mouse.)
3 comments:
1.) Your toilet is really rad.
2.) I really want his shoes.
That shout-out was like the time I read the Bible in literature in high school and stumbled across my name. Woah.
I should note that the shoes do not belong to the unfortunate man who ran across the stream. Those shoes belong to my new friend, Justin. I will tell him to mail you his shoes.
And then there was light.
MICH! I'm trying to catch up on reading your blog. You make it sound amazing. I want to travel again so bad. We should travel next summer, do Ireland and all of Europe. Well I must go do some homework in boring old Dayton. Miss you!!!
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