Mytwosentences 176

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With eyes closed and a slightly slumped lean, Gia’s furrowed hands became a simple brace on the kin marble of her second floor kitchen counter.

She thought of her late father, his devotion to that blasted quarry, and his strange fondness for a rosebush, that seemed to bloom every damn year on their parched Italian countryside.

Photo: Edward Roads

Written by Edward Roads

14 thoughts on “Mytwosentences 176”

  4. I am drawn to the almost encoded phrase “kin marble.” I had to think about it for awhile and even looked it up to discern whether it was a technical terminology for a type of marble of which I wasn’t aware. Instead, I found the resonance of the term nested in a figurative imagining of a family’s history with marble (or at least with a rock quarry). Beautiful phrase and a lovely vignette.

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