A Woman Who Was Pounding Salt. On August 19, 2011. In the corner of her eternal kicthen. A woman was pounding salt in her mortar. I will create hope, she said, on the black stone. Its ceiling was the color of the world. She herself mused on fish in an aquarium, swimming,. Like lazy balloons unaware of their own painted sign. They are the ones who dreaming,. Even if she had her own dreams. She dreamt of mounds of flour,. We are but traitors, Ma.

Then I remembered that jazz band pract.

Link digest for january project, week 1. New year, new site, new project. I have a new author site. And I am now official.