Adriana Oniță

Palermo, Sicilia. Five weeks into quarantine, our souls have melted into dor. All senses and feelings boiled into that one simple word. Dor. Try saying it out loud, taste it, hold its zeamă acrişoară on your tongue. Carry it in your jaw ca o amintire, ca limba română. In English, there are only imperfect synonyms for dor. Longing. Missing. Hankering.

– Notes on Dor, Poetry, and Learning to Cook in Quarantine, Beyond the Food Court