I almost give up for today. I could not describe the curve of her hand. A tree stood outside the window shading the house, but I could not tell whether it was a thornless locust or some other. I do not know the design or cloth of the tablecloth draping the kitchen table. I have no evocative details–the kind that slightly jar the soul. I am bereft of words. I will go to my grave without once describing the feeling of what happens.

Published in: on March 5, 2008 at 12:13 pm  Leave a Comment  

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