zapatista

Today was blissful. I woke up tired and groggy, drank bitter coffee on the couch with my incredible lover, had brunch with an old Chicago friend who introduced me to the mystic poet Hafiz of Shiraz, received life advice from Hafiz, spent the afternoon reading sex books, talking to my house-mate Nia, going with Jessi to a delicious desert oriented dinner at Mac, Chad and Chris' unknown named house, studied words, ate nachos, and slept again. Before the dinner I sat on the porch with Graves and talked about her trip to Chiapas to the Zapatista language school.