SNAPSHOTS
A tractor plowing a field, turning under hay stubble, turning up loamy chocolate earth, a line of sentinal storks on either side waiting for their worm buffet. The sun, flat behind them, hiding their red beaks, their black and white bodies, their spikey gangly legs in a flare of brightness; stork silhouettes. The French teacher at Martin’s school, speaking in Swedish so fast with such a thick French accent that I understood maybe 1 word in 10 of what she said at the parent meeting tonight. The English teacher grabbing and shaking my hand with a hearty introduction and a...