On Firmer Shores
Serge Liberman
1981
“I must go to carols tomorrow night.”
Mother is serving the soup. Chicken soup again, with noodles, for the third day in a row. While from next door, a roast tickles the nostrils. A myriad globules struggle afloat, a myriad bare lamps flicker and shimmer and glint upon the surface, reflecting themselves in these agitating oily orbs.
“Yes,” Mother…
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