The kitchen is the kitchen. It’s where we laugh and cry, share secrets and think about the secrets we don’t dare tell. It’s where we ask questions and where, maybe, we find answers. Am I a mother or a daughter, a wife or a woman, someone who wants to leave or needs to stay?
And sometimes, sometimes, what’s best of all is to sit alone in the kitchen late at night and not have to say a word at all.
Pears on a willow tree, Leslie Pietrzyk