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.

Fenugreek, Tuesday's spice, when the air is green like mosses after rain.

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

Everytime i have turned the page he re-enters my life as awkward as postscript

Your childhood hunger is the one that never leaves you.

I guess there's a lot we hope for that never happens.