Light on Broken Glass: a wending writer's life
Thursday, January 7, 2010
In the static between hums a melody
"El mundo es un pañuelo," I say to him. It's a small world.
But what I end up saying is "pomelo" — the world is a grapefruit.
And he laughs, and I laugh, and between the padded walls of language everything is all right again.
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