How enchanting this is: being permitted to take a bit of pleasure in something rustic, even only a grosch’n’s worth. Fresh eggs, country ham, country and city liverwurst! I have to admit: I do like standing and scallywagging about in the proximity of tempting comestibles. Again I am reminded of the most vivid ephemeralities, and what is alive is dearer to me than the immortal.Related reading, via Pinboard
Robert Walser, “Market,” in Berlin Stories , trans. Susan Bernofsky (New York: New York Review Books, 2012).
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