Sumac and Mastic Be Dull


The noise of guttle and cram that he wore about him like a great helmet fashioned from every type of eating utensil up to and including dirty fingers and the rudest elbows ever to be found repulsed me.

I yearned for your quiet ways, clean and kind and always, although it looked like you were eating all that you had, giving, I would find later, most of your own away.

I would rather share one mingled breath with you than a pannychis with full flight of stuffed swan, rivers of excess for drink, and every exotic condiment beyond saffron, cardamom, and myrtle to taunt a tongue, with him. — Sumac, Mastic, and Star Anise Be Dull When I Am Not With You, by Annette Marie Smith