Sunday, July 11, 2010
What Once Was Blood
We're sitting in a restaurant. Our food has just been served.
A woman to the left of me slides her fingers into her plate of food and removes a bird talon of indeterminate species, a shred of raw and fruit-red flesh still attached.
Outraged, she waves the claw in all our faces.
I'm not sure what her gesture is meant to signify, but I mimic her indignation out of deference and awe.
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