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the first

The yarmarka (farmer's market) is about to close. Some of the people are already packing up, offering their last bruised tomatoes at half-price to anyone walking past them.  I am wandering, staring at bunches of herbs, at the same old options - cabbage, pepper, potato, garlic, apple, cucumber. But then I see a pile of peas. The season must have come early this year. I buy a kilo, and some mint. I know what is for dinner. We have not had it in eleven months.

At home, I rip the bag open, showing them to V. She stands by the kitchen table, eyes wide. I crack one open, showing her the little rounds inside. She plucks one out, her pinky pointing to the ceiling.
"Try it." I tell her.
She does, but she does not like it.

I pull out a bowl for them. She jumps up and down a few times. V always wants to help in the kitchen. I pull her to my lap, and we begin pulling them out from the shells. She learns quickly, tossing them with a flourish into the bowl, a few cascading to the flo…

the year of the rabbit (is never over)

How to believe in shooting stars

nothing

panthers, crows and sparrows

red pen, red blanket

the only thing that matters is what is in the picture

the zoo

two steps back, one step forward

this is the city

pictures (some from the windows)

in-between (there is no name)

How to drink coffee

the chapter to finish

the idiots and the children

Finish all of your soup and then you can have spaghetti

tooth fairies and curly fries (the torture museum)

Wake up, no Katz's

the first day (a dress rehearsal)

best personal blogs
best personal blogs