43 Days of Eating in Quarantine by Pia Sellery

When I was five, my dad taught me how to cut an onion. With his hands over mine, I made the first cut down the middle and exposed the hidden purple and red layers underneath. Each layer was so perfect, matching the thickness of the next but the circumference getting smaller and smaller until the middle. I thought it was remarkable, such conformity found in nature. That is, until it made me cry.

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