Monday is the day of silence, day of the whole white mung bean, which is sacred to the moon.

Monday is the day of silence, day of the whole white mung bean, which is sacred to the moon.

Fennel, which is the spice for Wednesdays, the day of averages, of middle-aged people. . . . Fennel . . . smelling of changes to come.

But maybe as I get older, I begin to see beauty where I least expected it before.

How can I forgive if you are not ready to give up that which caused you to stumble?

the darkness is a cresting wave. It sweeps me up out of my body until I float among the stars, those tine bright pores on the sky's skin. If only I could pass through them, I would end up on the other side, the right side, shadowless, perfectly illuminated, beyond the worries of this mundane world

Your childhood hunger is the one that never leaves you.