09-28-2016, 08:29 PM
In the dark of too-early morning, still wrapped in my sleep warmed cocoon, I cracked open bleary, still-dreaming eyes and forced them to focus on the microscopic hieroglyphs carved within the depths of my tiny idol, and saw that none had yet laid down an offering before the ever-hungry god. In that moment only one thought consumed me, I must be first. Even if it meant disaster. Even if I must drown in the depths of abject failure, I had to be first. And so I cut open the first vein I could find, sprinkled my life-blood into the little god's outstretched arms, then closed my eyes, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara