Changing into a new tunic and clean leggings, he descended the stair barefoot, and joined his family at the table.This night was no different than man... other nights in the last ten or so years. "Esef," his mother began, "Have you given further thought on the pursuit of Art for a vocation?" She ladled out a rich soup, almost a stew, created from fish and shellfish, in a chicken broth.He winced at the diminutive familiar name his mother had used for years. "Mother, truly, I shall never be a poet.. ”“Dad, I’m almost thirty years old.”He hung up the phone and said:“That’s right! You’re almost thirty years old, and now you come running home all bruised and battered like a teenage tomboy after a fistfight. This is not the way, Amanda! You’re obviously not taking proper care of yourself down there.”Her mother’s fingers continued to explore the purplish regions of her face.“Ouch! Mom!”“Oh, dear.”“Y’know, it would help if you two just settled down a bit. I’m alright, I’m telling you. I swear. More

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