e xquisitely }{ thin e

Baking sheets  . . . I snatched ’em out of an empty tin container, once filled with cinnamon muffins. Why did I snag ’em? I didn’t quite know at the time – I just knew they were so ethereal, so delicately beautiful. I couldn’t let them be snuffed just yet.

It wasn’t until I snapped these photos that I resolved the question.

Floating, and swaying, swooshing around.

They smell like cinnamon-ed flour, and feel like sashaying trees. A perfect balance between matte-n-glossy, lustrous ‘n fine.

The flick of each corner, sharp and crisp, digressing into the remnants of a delicately cumbrous treat.

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baking sheets . . . who’d’a thunk?

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