Going Inside

We are having breakfast. Omelette with tomatoes and cheese spread on toasts. We are eating at the small table so you have to bend over from the armchair to reach your plate. Your chest almost touches your legs, but you don’t really mind. You are hungry and you are busy with your food. One deliciously looking piece of omelette on your fork falls to the ground. You curse, then you collect the remnants from the floor and put it on the side of the plate.

This bite could be me. I see myself lying on your plate, all exposed to you while hoping that you will find me the most delicious piece amongst all. I’m fearless and surrendered to my destiny. I get excited when you stick your fork in me. The feeling of ’I can die now, I’m ready to start living’ runs through me. In the next second I’m on the floor trying to understand what happened. Is it how life after death feels? I'm still confused when you pick up my flattened body with your fingers and you put me on the side of the plate. I can hear the silent moanings of the other pieces: they all want to be the next.

I'm staring at your moving lips as you help the bites with your fork inside. You don't pay any attention to me, the excitement I had before is completely gone. The certainity that I will never feel those lips gives me the privilege to enjoy these moments from the position of an objective observer. I try to remember all the details of your face and by the time the omelette disappears from the plate I’m ready to take the memory of our last breakfast with me into the garbage bag.

I’m wondering where the point will be when I finally realize the moral of this existence. Will it happen in the garbage bag or in the garbage car? Will I be already transformed into different substances in which I’m taking the past lives memories with me? I don’t know. But I’m sure that there will be a point. There will be a point when I realize that falling is our natural state. We all touch the ground at the end.

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