by JK Miller We played with our fingers over the surface of thespongy, moon-like sourdough, rovers dippinginto the Misir Wot, the Kik Wot, and the Shiro Wot,roaming around the teff mons, and it wasn’t longbefore, in Lalibela’s on Fairfax, sitting across from each other at the small, square table,with the moon in front of us, Continue reading