Poised on chopsticks, the mortared rice
slick with oil and crumbled egg bits, would never be enough to amend the hunger of the day’s long hours. Instead lift the humble bowl with flecks of bright green scallions and miniature cubes of salty sausage (cut perfectly to distract from that which is missing) to your lower lip and open wide, pushing with chopsticks the avalanche of finely chopped spare parts of yesterday’s meals so that forgetting is done in shifts.
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