William Bereza on Unsplash

The red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) had woken up very early, for a moment she thought there was a huge fire in the distance, but no, it was a fabulous sunrise, more than gorgeous, it was going to be an excellent day – not dreary at all.

She got up and padded to her little kitchen, ah yes, coffee to brew, as she talked to herself as usual, and then she stared at the calendar on the door; gosh, she muttered, it was already September, as she quickly grabbed her diary to make a note for today.

With her mug in her hand, she went to her writing table, and opened her laptop, but what should she write?

She had enjoyed that fantastic poetry slam last week, all those excellent poets, like Nick, Misky, Frank, Ange and Reelika, with all their lovely voices; then there was Reena, Aptivi and Len, and also, of course, some particular Proprietors, meaning Mimi, Denise (aka the BarTender), and the top of the list, Clark (the tall, thin man), plus, for the second time, it was the Gatekeeper and Hūnga.

Now she felt that her other red-headed woman could have another spin in Paris, with all her friends, especially those two gargoyles.

She pondered a bit, but she was getting hungry now, best to go to the Six-Sentence-Café-and-Bistro, she already knew what she would order – it will be two dippy eggs and toast, since she was pretty certain that Tom would be working that shift.

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