The salmon always run, and we must welcome them as the sustenance for more than the body of woman. . .as the running fervor of a life worth living, even through and beyond the destruction of habitat, even through the unconscious living which lacks the vibrancy of a shimmery wet creature wriggling in your hands and burrowing into a space, not only in your stomach, but in the heart, where its beat and yours are joined in celebration. . .
Something about the words which remained after the Citrasolve dissolved the others, “The salmon always run, but if their habitat is destroyed. . .” and the obvious love and reverence of this fisherwoman kissing her fish. . .I found very moving.
I had to go out and pet my chickens and tell them how much I appreciate their eggs and the way they ornament my garden with their elegant feathers.