I watch a butterfly in the front window of a gallery. I wonder if it knows it's just an impression. The sentiment, but not the substance.
The second teashop of the trip to interdict cellphone use is Dobra, and I wonder if I'll ever get a chance to look up how to get this inkstain out of my pants (Editor's note: the internet's best suggestion is "scissors". I end up dying the pants navy blue, they come out lavender without hiding the stain, and I eventually donate them to charity.)
No info so far about how to fix my pen either, though it still seems to write. Mightier than the sword, but not the floor of the Mule Bar in Winooski.
I order a gaiwan of Jin Xuan (milk oolong, which does not contain any milk). It smells great and tastes good too, and as promised, it has a slightly different texture. I switch to a Zhao Li Qiao. If you keep it pretty light, under a minute or gongfu, it has a lovely complexity while avoiding mustiness. Woody with some clay, hints of brown sugar, and subtle earthiness.
Outside, a young woman walks past with brightly-dyed hair and a dirndl, which I find interesting to see incorporated into modern street fashion. I see her again at the Vermont Brewers Festival later that evening.
I'm taxing my tolerance as I hit the pu'erh again. I wonder if the floor is uneven or just the tea. I may need some food soon. I hear about a Dunham beer which is a smoked helles with pu'erh, which sounds like my favorite beer of all time, and that I have missed it as it had sold out the night before. Pity.
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