sunday, in the evening. what i did was i ate a million of those little dried Calimyrna figs from the plastic bag in the kitchen. some swedish sisters were singing on the radio and i just ate one dried Calimyrna fig after another. at the end of each fig i was left with a stem and with each stem i was surprised that an end had arrived so soon. i was unprepared and unsure of where to discard it. i placed the new end with the rest of the ends on the table near the radio. while i listened i ate figs and while i ate figs i began to wonder if i was consuming figs as a substitute for something else i wanted or lacked. i couldn’t think of anything else i had ever wanted as much, ever, as the small dried Calimyrna fig. i slowly begin to accept that these figs will fill my deep aching emptiness of fig.