Cause I wasted the rye on geese. But it’s still grain, and grain’s expensive, I feel rich. I’ll make some porridge and call a sweet little wench to roll around in cornmeal. I’ll tell her about my childhood as a traumatized city dweller in the Orthodox culture, conveying my drama even through my smile, as we philosophize on Interstellar. In the summer heat I am Constable’s young boy, drinking from …… citeste mai mult