The Man Who Cooked Nothing
The soup was thin today. I stirred it with the wooden spoon and watched the surface ripple. There were turnips in it. Maybe three, maybe four, cut into chunks the size of my fist. There was barley, a handful at most. There was water. There was salt, because salt is cheap and it makes everything taste like something even when there is nothing in the pot but water and salt. I stirred it again....
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