Pack A Pillow And Blanket

A Bicultural Upbringing Is A Rich But Imperfect Thing

She Learned That An Act Intended To Express Love Could Have Nothing To Do With It. That Her Heart And Her Body Were Different Things.

In The Days That Follow, He Begins To Remember Things About Moushumi, Images That Come To Him Without Warning While He Is Sitting At His Desk At Work, Or During A Meeting, Or Drifting Off To Sleep, Or Standing In The Mornings Under The Shower. They Are Scenes He Has Carried Within Him, Buried But Intact, Scenes He Has Never Thought About Or Had Reason To Conjure Up Until Now.

You Are Still Young, Free.. Do Yourself A Favor. Before It's Too Late, Without Thinking Too Much About It First, Pack A Pillow And A Blanket And See As Much Of The World As You Can. You Will Not Regret It. One Day It Will Be Too Late.

Gogol Remembers Having To Do The Same Thing When He Was Younger, When His Grandparents Died...he Remembers, Back Then, Being Bored By It, Annoyed At Having To Observe A Ritual No One Else He Knew Followed, In Honor Of People He Had Seen Only A Few Times In His Life...now, Sitting Together At The Kitchen Table At Six-thirty Every Evening, His Father's Chair Empty, This Meatless Meal Is The Only Thing That Seems To Make Sense.