January 4, 2015
It's 1989 and I'm in Greece with my boyfriend. We're in a small town, near the water, and in the not too distant distance, a man is lifting something high and then slamming it onto the deck. He does this over and over again, and I wonder what he's doing. I discover it's a squid and he's not exactly teaching it how to do a swan dive. The sound of the body against the deck fills me with sadness. How I was able to eat calamari on the trip after all, and when home, I'll never know. But never again.