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Maybe I wish I could stand next to Mom, again, in our burnt umber kitchen, a place where I never had to think: should I eat this? Is it the right thing?
A place where I didn’t have to share her.
Imagine: Mom would hand me something, and it was always just the right thing.
Henrik Grönvold
A monograph of the pheasants, 1918-1922
"Eggs of Blood Partridges, Tragopans, Impeyans and Eared -Pheasants."