The tears come even though my eyes have been long dry: the onions, the onions, I say, shaking salt from my lashes.
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The tears come even though my eyes have been long dry: the onions, the onions, I say, shaking salt from my lashes.
Slicing is such sweet sorrow.
(Sauteed onions and mushrooms with salsa and yogurt over baked yams… my sorrow turned to joy by the time dinner was ready.)