“Salad for lunch,” Matka Lasu announced, then, mimicking Tranoc, she thumped the basket on the table with the pride of a conquering hero. “We have celery and marigolds and purslane and radishes, dandelion, garlic, and rue.” Puffed up with self-importance, she displayed with a flourish each item as she named it. Only her twinkling blue eyes betrayed
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