Blood, Belly, Bile: The Butchershops in Marrickville

UTS ePress
Locating Suburbia: memory, place, creativity, 2013, 1, pp. 214 - 225
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This enquiry begins, as it so often does, with a word. Precisely, three words. On a particular day the sign in the butcher shop was clear but baffling while the tray beneath was empty. My Vietnamese is non-existent, and the sales assistants English was not quite up to it, so I left the butcher shop still wondering what BELLY BIBLE HONEYCOMB could be. Offal, it was, almost certainly. The tray next to it held a pile of chicken hearts marvellous, perfect miniatures of the human organ while the one in front displayed a gleaming mass of calf liver, the blood congealing around it in purple ropes.
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