Thursday, August 9, 2012

Oh Phaedrus

While rightful immigrant angst bursts out in fire, while people starve in remote places, while villagers lose their long-awaited crop and their hopes to floods, while yet another child is sold to prostitution, you cut orange carrots and soft yielding mushrooms and sharp pungent lilac onions and frilly-skirted green cabbages to make dinner, and plan what to make for breakfast.

Life is such.

Oh Phaedrus, brother.

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