Family table

Family table; my mother and I, sitting opposite each other. She eats greedily. I don’t. I look at my plate to avoid her eyes that pierce my mouth. This linking of her eyes to my mouth makes me think of the following phrases: “Does the child eat? How much does the child eat? Do you like what you are eating? Eat everything, everything! All in your mouth!” And then silence. Nothing else. And then bulimia. Bulimia because there was only this linking and then nothing, and then that kind of silence that for years will be like an abandoned land, eaten from within and from the wild weeds, unsuitable for further cultivation.

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