Lot’s wife
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Salt
A flash-fire covered the horizon all around and behind her, and my mother glowed genuine blue. I saw her skeleton, or maybe her white-hot soul. Something flew up and around our heads.
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Salt: A Triptych
Without salt, life has no savor, because without salt we are not human. It is the physical manifestation of the basic triad of our lives: love, work, and grief.