Tonight I ate raspberries, and blueberries, and tomatoes and butter lettuce and thin-sliced pork in spicy drippings and moist, dense, rich challah still slightly warm, torn into chunks, flinging crumbs and sesame seeds across the wooden table, spread with thick soft butter and scattered with complicated, snowflaky salt, the kind that piles up in sparking white drifts in its bowl on the counter, like splinters of crushed ice, and I felt alive, I felt like my body was mine and I was mine and I could breathe like I haven't breathed in a while.
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AuthorBitter Water
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. Archives
June 2019
Categories© Francie Nevill and Every Sweet Thing, 2017.
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