On Lost Paper
As the soup cools off the vapors take me back to my childhood and I can see my granny sitting in the kitchen with me. The flash pot on the stove fizzes, telling stories in a language I can only feel. There is a sense of coziness and security. My granny holds a book in her knotted hands. I have just started reading and peering at the cover of the book I am able to make out the title: Chicken Soup for the Soul. "What is a soul, Granny?" I ask her.