oranges in bloom

[at the bench under the umbrella at vhod V]

“I decided to paint my kitchen.”

“I’ve meant to it for the last 20 years.”

“And now, now that I’m old and can’t do it myself I have a reason to make somebody else to it.”


“Ha! Now that you only have a few years left to enjoy it!  What color?”

“Mandarin.”

“Or Peach Banana.”

“Or Mango Peach.”

“I don’t know! Whatever happened to orange and red, and reddish orange?”

“And now I want fruit.”


“It wouldn’t go with your rakiya.”

“Here have some proper meze.”

[slowly shoving the lukanka (dried sausage) across the table in front of the man who looks first down at his coffee cup, filled with rakiya, and then at the plate of thinly sliced sausage. ]

“Perfect.”

“What’s Perfect?”

“Тhe color”.

I’ll have them paint my kitchelukanka colored!

Perfect.

They cheers their coffee cups.

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