This Will Appear as the Title of Your Blog

        Yes, I remember my hometown well... The smell of children tossing olives into ravines, the brown streaks of Kit-Kat bars on pavement, young couples skipping through the streets making loud kissy noises to each other (but never actually kissing)...         I was a child professor back in those days. Seven, perhaps eight years old, with an untamable wiry grey beard that hung down to my little child's paunch. I had received my PhD in Doctorate Receiving. I was perhaps, at the time, the youngest and most sought-after Doctor of Doctor-Becoming. I spent many lonely afternoons soaking in my meal-taking-tub, careful not to make a poop in the water, scrubbing at my enormous grey beard while demanding my servants tell me improvised stories of anthropomorphized foods replete with souls, dreams and intricate backstories: "Tell me again about the gross mole on the back of the aunt of this forkful of mashed potatoes, Brenalynn! Describe how it would...