One Year, 12 Pastas
I am addicted to new.
All kinds of new...
From the promises held in the blank pages of a sketchbook to the quickening pulse that precedes a first kiss, I am hopelessly charmed and continually seduced by new.
And while we are eons away from mastering the art of making, I feel a well-earned lifetime into this journey. With each batch, it feels less and less... new.
As I examine the motivations surrounding my choices, I begin to wonder — when will loyalty’s virtue become eclipsed by my appetite for new?
Maybe the changing seasons are to blame for my misgivings... perhaps a fickle nature, insatiable and cruel.
Whatever comes of it all, I know I will continue to push and pull my way to something... something good as new.