Pickles Taught Me the Art of Self-Preservation
I was not suspended in a timeless brine like my pickles. I was not a stoic javelin of cellulose waiting to strike a bored palette. My answers would not be in rigidity, in control.
what did I come here for?
Tell me your secrets. Teach me permanence, how to bear hardship, how to nourish people in lean times. Make me too sour for defeat, give me a chilled and quiet strength.
Maybe I’ll cut it next week,
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