민정은
낭만 | 시각예술
told me as the sweetness
of the sugar bread sent a
thrill throughout my body. ‘I
know,’ I replied sighing. My
heart filled up with sorrow.
I wished dearly to go home
right then and apologize to
my mother, who did all she
could to pack me a lunch,
who loved me despite the
mean words I threw at her,
whose last words to the
daughter stomping out the
front door was
“I’m sorry. Have a nice time
there.”...
I repeat my question-can
something taste beautiful?
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Nay. How can anything
taste beautiful? It is my
mother’s love that added
beauty to the delicious taste
of the sugar bread.
手
TOUCH
There is beauty in the texture
of my old viola, made two
centuries before I was born.
I run my hand down the
smooth wood before and after
every practice, and here and
there, there would be a scar
or a scratch, orange against
the auburn wood; however,
that little bump makes the
texture all the more beautiful,
for they show the hours we
spent together, viola and I,
as one team. Not only that,
but think, how boring would
the world be without any
bumps along the way? How
monotonous would it be if
ever ything were flawless?
Imperfection makes things
perfect.
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