I call it 子供丼 (kodomo-don), because it is only egg over rice. Something about it is simple, one rank lower in maturity than an adult dish.
We don’t crave the things we’re close to, even if they’ve shaped us into who we are.
The taste of silence and salt heavy on my tongue.
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‘Persona 5 Royal’ and the Case for Suffering
Matthew Shepard Bought an Engagement Ring
The Transportive Power of ‘The Phantom Tollbooth’
How I Became a Scholar of Black Girl Fantasy
My Father, Montaigne, and the Art of Living
What kind of story would you like to write?
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