“I could tell from its expression, or lack of expression, that it was pretending not to listen to my silent questions about its previous life— its cold-water adventures, its capable mother— and that its winking at me was a trick of candlelight. But soon, all that was left was the spine and a filigree of bones, so I sat back to finish off the wine and survey this place that had comforted me with its chests of ice where fish were bedded, drawings of fish in frames on the white walls, and the low m...usic. Backed by a hint of guitar sang a broken-hearted woman I imagined to be my waitress who had no English, nor I any Russian, and who never once smiled, yet she had waited for me to close my notebook and put away my pen before clearing my plate as if she understood the provocative nature of this trout. And how sweet to realize this only later after I had put on my raincoat and was back in the drizzle of the wide boulevard among pedestrians on their private missions, heading downhill to my hotel, the onion domes of St.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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