today marks the commencement of my role as fledgling bostonian. since yesterday was my last day of work (i love you, ibm!), and the remotest semblance of school (or a free meal) does not start in a week, i have seven blissful days in which to frolic, focus, and frame my precious time here in the town-of-tea through touristy sorts of activities and lots of uncharted explorations. therefore, i will hit the ubiquitously bostonian ‘hot-spots’ (careful, don’t burn yourself!) and finally traverse the freedom trail like every sane boston tourist has– with cushy shoes and historical-savvy aplomb. quite sad that most harvard students don’t have the time or the gumption to break out of the campus bubble during the school year to truly appreciate our posh geographics. bunker hill! the common! the jfk musuem! haymarket! lovely things such as these aren’t on the list of priorities, ungracefully bumped to lower status by the pressing demands of problem sets or residual sleep. an absolute shame… a little fruit never hurt anybody.

speaking of which, i went to haymarket this morning, my first time on a saturday (usually i go early on friday morns, when piles of fruit are still being set for display, rising slowly in synchrony along with the sleepy sun). with $4.75 from my pocket, i managed to garner four pink grapefruit, a box of blackberries (i had to exchange the first box because it was moldy in spots; i had to physically point out the mold [look, it’s here] before the guy allowed me to pick out another box, which was ripe to the point of blackberry juice but i ate them yummily one hour later, barely skimming their timely expiration), a small bin of figs (black, if it so matters), four new zealand apples, and six pluots (a.k.a. dinosaur eggs). what a fructosutopian steal. mmm, that’ll last me for… three days. :) saturday definitely boasted a lot more vendors and more selection, i suppose, but in comparison with fresh fridays the fruit looked a bit downtrodden and people were absolutely cutthroat. the market does have its moments: i tried to look away when a woman accidentally dropped a huge bundle of basil on the i-dont-want-to-think-how-germy-it-is ground, and then hastily replaced it back on the table. don’t look, keep moving. huge papayas, one dollar each? upon closer inspection, they’re studded with huge, gaping black holes of revolting rottenness. lookawaylookaway. however, as you turn the corner, the pink cactus pears and the monstrous strung garlic and the shiny red peppers catch your attention, and all you can do is fish out a dollar, hand it over, and beam as you leave with your plastic-bagged treasure. balance has been restored.

over-priced dream of the moment: spinning on two of these, fading between bjork and tosca, looping bonobo with hooverphonic sprinkled on top. skritchy skritchy scraa… plaid meets squarepusher! oO^_^Oo

since it was gorgeous weather, and i had some free moments after replying about a thousand emails and doing my laundry (such glamourous weekend activities!), i decided to take a little stroll down charles street, taking in the sights (and snobberies) of prim beacon hill. my mom had told me repeatedly about a charming grocery called deluca’s, and i was curious to see block after block of beautiful home decor stores, shoe + handbag boutiques, and exquisite florists. i got off the T at charles/mgh and promptly embarked along the seductive curve of the cobbled charles. asian antiques, specialty grocers, candles and stationery… i delved deeper into the pit of affluence and frivolous female expenditure, wildly window-shopping at kate spade clutches, handcrafted translucent papers, and $450 kitten heels. it was maddening to think that people actually bought these luxuries, with a nonchalant lipsticked air i imagine, waving their slim nokia in one hand and toting a furry terrier in the other. i was browsing moxie, an adorable yet intimidatingly expensive boutique, when i overheard a conversation between two women. one said, ‘you know, it’s strange, with all the bags i own i don’t have a basic black bag.’ the other shrieked, ‘OMG! you DONT have a BLACK BAG???’ like she just came out of the jungle and didn’t know how to regulate her own volume. trying to pretend i didn’t hear that banshee-esque outburst lambasting a fashion faux pas, i carefully examined a $200 bag decorated with a tacky crossword puzzle and high-tailed it out of there. pink pink pink… the picture you see embedded in this paragraph was taken of a mannequin on the street dressed in a most texturally satisfying outfit of feathers and lace. a third texture, cobblestone, ebbs angelically in the background, subtly mocking this immaculately artistic construction of pseudo-original style. (hee!)

miraculously, i made it alive to the end of the street and into the common. three amazing stores that receive liu approval are black ink, full of spectactularly random objects that you soon realize you cannot live without; koo de kir, a funky modern decor store; and cocoon, a lush expanse of svelte vases, framed vitra chair miniatures, and swoon-worthy table settings. let it be known that a gift bought from any of these fascinating marvels would be perfect, anytime, anyplace. :)

tomorrow’s plan is a 4-hour, ~15 mile, bike ride through the emerald necklace. luscious green parks and fundamental landscape architecture? i’m there. it’ll feel so good to bike around a city again…

farewell, as the petals fade from mauve to blush, the tea stains drip dry, and the light reflects round, white, stroke. crinkle. peel. disappear.

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