Publisher's Synopsis
This, This... Whenever it is dark in the house I turn on a small light for comfort a small light in the kitchen over the sink. In winter when day fades I pull a chair to a window to read by the light of sunset news of a distant world, and light from the kitchen collects on the floor in dim puddles. It reminds me that we are poor. It reminds me of my mother cutting sprouts from potatoes, how she would call when I complained ""Come. Look!"" water pouring from the tap ""Look, this we have in abundance.""
