Mar 30, 2008 00:38
I'm eating bread like tomorrow is bread's last day in town.
I don't know why or when, but I completely justified the consumption of bread at any time and with any appetite. I mean, I've always loved bread, but this is insane. (pauses to eat more bread)
Bread is the essence of life. When man got tired of cooking meat, he said, "Let's burn this and see what happens." Hence, bread. Brood in Dutch, pan in Spanish. Every language eats it.
I'm going to pass out now, likely with bread dangling from my oral cavity.
But before I go, I think I should mention the personality quirks my obsession with bread reveals. I am tempted by plainness. Yet, bread comes in many forms. It's these subtle differences that intrigue me. I need the stability of knowing that what I'm eating is a traditional, universal delectable, yet I yearn for a special diversity. A ciabatta, or a focaccia. Some zest to make the plainness a virtue. I am tempted by a unique stability, one that you can always come back to yet never grow wary of. It's an unconventional, difficult-to-discover taste, but one I can find in the truest and most tested of sustenance.