Word: onion
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...child is a precise metaphysician. He (or she) writes down name, house number, street, town, state, ZIP code, country . . . and then, to be exact, "Planet Earth, the Solar System, the Galaxy, the Universe." Creation is an onion with many skins, all layering outward from the child's self. If he gets lost in the galaxy, he can find the way back, can fly through the concentric circles to his own house -- from outermost remoteness to innermost home. Nostalgia means the nostos algos, the agony to return home. What got broken long ago in Ernest was his charts and instruments...
...humble onion that stung taste buds and left telltale traces on the breath is being eclipsed by new, less pungent breeds. They include such varieties as the 1015 out of Texas, the Imperial Sweet (California) and the Maui (Hawaii). Never mind that some of these hybrids pack all the consistency and taste of an unripe cantaloupe; never mind that they may serve to decorate a salad but will do nothing to spice up a stew. The National Onion Association reports that, thanks largely to the new designer hybrids, consumers are no longer holding their noses and that U.S. consumption...
...shoppers these days are trekking to local bakeries and specialty shops -- often braving long lines and empty bins -- in search of gourmet loaves of all sizes and shapes: rosemary, garlic and poppy wands with a crackling-hard crust; dense bricks dotted with specks of flax, sunflower and sesame seeds; onion sourdough baguettes; and mammoth 4-lb. pumpkin-like affairs made from live, wild cultures. "Bread is being rescued from oblivion," says Michael London, owner of Rock Hill Bakehouse in Greenwich, N.Y. "It's as if it had been locked up in a closet somewhere for years...
...novel--for in reality, she writes, it was her life--and she can once again emphasize the tenuous connections between author and subject and the multiplicities of "I" when she says: "My tale has no end. Like Chinese boxes within boxes, like Russian dolls within dolls, like an onion peeling back its skin, we go on revealing our hearts in the hope that they may never stop beating...
...that is what photography is up to, then the onion of the world is being peeled away, layer by layer -- lenses like black holes gobbling up life's emanations. Mere images proliferate, while history pares down to a phosphorescence of itself...