Whole
Whole industries have sprung from nothing, from someone broken, crying: make me whole. My brother, having broken a green banana in half, held the two snapped bits up to my mother, who held me in 1962 in the produce section of the A&P, and holding me (as yet unbroken), strolled, if briefly, from my brother, pretending not to know him, knowing his inmost desire to be reunited with a time before he knew me. The cry insists: make me whole, as if…… More »




























