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This, This... Whenever it is dark in the houseI turn on a small light for comforta small light in the kitchenover the sink. In winter when day fadesI pull a chair to a windowto read by the light of sunsetnews of a distant world,and light from the kitchencollects on the floor in dim puddles. It reminds me that we are poor. It reminds me of my mothercutting sprouts from potatoes,how she would call when I complained'Come. Look!' water pouring from the tap'Look, this we have in abundance.'