Green, crushed flower buds lie in the bottom of my cup, reminding me of the dirt accumulating on the rug at my back door. I should vacuum more often.
She cradles a blue, earthenware teapot in her hands, a fiery red kabuki wig ablaze on her head. Her noh mask of white, black and red creates a fearsome visage.
I’m struggling to connect these two melodramatic events – tea ritual and Japanese theater – but failing miserably.
The bizarre ceremony continues for another 20 minutes, and I’m still lost in its significance. Perhaps I’ll learn something when she reads my tea leaves.
Thin spiral notebook 
Neat! I like the “did I leave the iron on” moment with the dirt! Is it okay if for some reason, my mind went to Bozo the clown, when the fiery red wig came up?
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HA! Red kabuki wigs can look remarkably like Bozo.
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Oh, this is great. Love the descriptions here and love that ending. And that IM about needing to vacuum more often. That seals the deal.
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I’m with Lance. I want to hear your reading. Your imagery was vivid.
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Hey you cheated on this, but I’ll forgive you on account that it was pretty cool! 🙂
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more, I want to hear your reading
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ooohhh… your song prompt could work nicely.
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