Daily Use
Of course, all these were somehow vague, perhaps even inexplicable for the ones who raise their glass emphatically over the table without seeing who holds it, until slowly the everyday use makes us mortal.
Thus, I always tried to look elsewhere when the doorbell rang and when everything was quietened: where is the host? Why is he hiding? I leaned on the table so that I wouldn’t fall; then, bowing my head.
I opened the door and followed my path.
And at night, at dinner, in horror, I listened as they narrated their stories, which, in a way, silenced the dark, remote outside—there, where we had lived.
