When I travel, it’s hard not to compare where I am with places I’ve been. It’s probably not the best habit – Paris will always be Paris and London my eternal city – but it’s a way of narrowing down the long list of places I’d like to return to, again and again.
Earlier this evening an old friend of my parents joined us for dinner at Grandpa’s house. My parents told her not to bring any dishes – Grandpa doesn’t each much and they’d cooked enough to ensure leftovers for at least two more meals – but Mrs. R– hopped in ten minutes late carrying a big pot of “lion head” meatballs and a smaller platter of stir-fried cucumber and sliced fish cakes. Continue reading “Little Children”→