Lifting the latch on the rotten post, the small gate dropped down on its hinges and scraped a quarter circle on the ground as we passed, as if the few...screws remaining were reluctant to let us through, knowing that when we were done here the whole building would pass to the new owners. New owners who neither knew nor cared for its history, who would tear down anything imperfect or old and replace it with gleaming steel, glass and varnished pine, bereft of scent, emotion and empathy, and turn. I've seen photographs in school books. I'veseen paintings of bowls of fruit in the town museum. Old people havedescribed to me what it's like to bite into an apple. I never dreamed Iwould eat one myself.I pluck a grape from a bowl filled with a couple hundred of them. Thatbowl would pay the salary of five men for a month.I pop the grape in my mouth and bite down. It's as good as advertised.The old men weren't lying. I shove more into my mouth."Easy, baby, easy," Janine says. "The food isn't. More

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