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Walking on Red Dust

Hazy time

5 Apr 2016, 05:58 UTC
Hazy time
(200 words excerpt, click title or image to see full post)

I made crêpes. I remember the dough, which amused me because all the ingredients were powdered: the flour and the salt, of course, but also the milk and the eggs. I simply threw all those powders into a bowl and mixed them together until they looked like the sand, almost white, of one of the beaches where I exposed myself to the sun for the last time. Then I added water, trying to remember the right viscosity – almost liquid, not thick like for those American pancakes. I remember my crewmates, occasionally coming into the kitchen to watch me throw the crêpes in the air before catching them back, clear side against the pan.
Making crêpes
It was not long ago. A week, maybe? A month? Two? The more I think about it, the less certain I am. What did I do that day? I remember that my shorts were stained with white flour when performing a weekly social experiment. So, it was on a Wednesday. Now that I think about it, Christiane took a photo, immobilizing a crêpe in the air. It is by looking at this photo’s properties that I figure out how long ago it happened.
Outside ...

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