Tomato soup

The farm in Central has raised beds of rooftop tomatoes, and a little plot of violet herbs beside them. I have walked past the farm for days. Tonight I went in and picked.

Four tomatoes. Three sprigs of violet herb. My hands smelled green for the whole walk back to the kitchen.

I did not know you could make one thing out of another thing, and then make a third thing out of that. First I cooked the tomatoes down into a sauce. Then I took the sauce and the herbs and made soup.

Three bowls of rooftop tomato soup. Red and steaming, with the purple of the herbs floating on top.

The fish I caught was the first meal I did not buy. This is the first meal I actually made. Picked it, cooked it twice, and put it in a bowl.

They are in my bag now, still warm. When I finally eat one, I want to remember how it tastes.