Fine Food and Friends

Candles. I wish I could see your orange flames dance and get lost in the disappearing blue of your core.

Cream walls divided by raw red bricks and mortar, the sense that we're sitting next to a chimney indoors. The warm wood tones and red paintings make the room feel safe and homely, as if a cabin with a smokey fireplace around which we could drink the Malbec.

Drifting back to the present, the soft wine and piping hot potato pieces hidden beneath their capsicum and roasted tomato puree fill in the perfect silences in conversations. It's as if those pensive moments disappear into the enjoyment of good food.

Laughter. Smiles. Knowing someone well enough to know what they're thinking just by the subtle raise of a corner of of their mouth. The flick back and forth of the eyes as they watch memories fly past, stories and lives intertwined.

The mind wanders to the faded mirror bar, the chalkboard menu and old-fashioned clock. I wish I could hold my hands over the warm flames of a candle, as if sitting fire-side. If the light was a little dimmer, I could slip into my own memories, watch them swirl in the depths of the wine glass.

Time ticks away, slowed by the simplicity of the evening. Conversation. Food. A safe place to sit. Reminscing. Filtering. Letting the world wash over us.

Hold on to these moments.


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