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Coffee Blondies

I want the quiet, that slow drip through wet paper. Grounds. The kind of exhale that makes a soft, little noise. It just doesn’t matter very much, really. Sugar and butter make caramel on the stovetop, fragranced with soft drops: tablespoons of lukewarm coffee. You won’t totally notice, really. But it’s there. Pecans and mini…

Hello Darlings

On the second level of the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, there are six eyes at the end of a long walkway. They surround the name, “Guillermo del Toro.” Through the entrance are pieces (big / small, spooky / scary, wonky / familiar) that encapsulate things that I have feared. Monsters, ghosts, abnormality, uncertainty. Things we…