Making a sandwich
One day I woke up and started to weigh out all these things I had accumulated in my life.
I have this tendency to see things in black and white. Dichotomies of right and wrong. A slippery slide of life leading up and down, often dipping into the past and future.
A doorway like books and stories often are in our life. It is sad we often create stories and narratives of our own lives — notions shaped our nurtured and shaped lives. We are all products of something yet unique and different in sands of ways.
I weighed the options one by one, one by one.
What is the meaning of it all?
That thunder roared in the background. The setting and ominous backdrop demanded some action. Anything. Every moment and breath can be much more or much less of what it is. Should I ask too much or too little from it?
Slice the knife falls.
One thick slice of tomato.
The last ingredient. Salt and Pepper.
The sandwich is complete.