April 23, 2013 § 1 Comment
Kitchen: there have been voices in envelopes and hopes portioned carefully in foreign words. Salt. Sugar. Sorrow.
Friend: sits on the broken chair, the one with the ripped cover, and protects it from all arrogant gaze. The food is excellent.
Questions: one after the other they arrive mourning the wasted time: “How’s your sister?” “Where’s your brother?” “Who’s still here?”
Stranger: we ate and drank wine, we sang together and promised to be there the following night. The old story of goodbyes.
Silence: there’s a well under our kitchen. We cook with its water. We throw stones and measure its level. We bend over and greet our shadow.
Invitation: after a long winter, we cook with our best dress on. A notebook in the apron. Someone should read that again, please. A promise.
[…] Kitchen Light: https://notborninenglish.wordpress.com/2013/04/23/kitchen-light/ […]
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