Finding a Bible
1972, afternoon.
Wrapped in coarse old cloth I could feel either a book or a box. Both possibilities fascinated me, since the inside of them usually carried whole worlds of its own. I already had galaxies of parts, fragments or entire books and boxes – small galaxies, I have to confess – but imagined immense ones out there, everywhere.
A moldy, old dark hard cover Bible was hidden in that wrap. Of course, it was a complete novelty to me.
Not enough kerosene, or castor oil for the lamps and I was stopped at the end of Exodus, before morning arrived bringing in its tray of lights toasted manioc flower cakes and strong coffee, fresh from the coffee trees in the yard.
Mom and morning were sisters and alike in inventing delicacies and smells.