Bowl to mouth, did I use a spoon? I only remember the chowdered, soft bits of potato melting on my tongue, a tangle of clams, like sand, sticking to the roof of my mouth, strands clinging to my incisors and the oysters going down, an oily, warm slide coating my throat. Swallowing, breathing through my nose, I could smell the sea, was no longer hungry, all wet and warm inside, more towards sleep, as if I had eaten you whole, swallowing hard, drinking deep, man, nature, the beast.
Enthralling. I can remember feeling this way once eating an apple. They say you are only a virgin once, but having these kind of senses makes you think twice. I liked the body of your work and your keen attunement to detail. Great minds think alike? right?
Cheers
Alain
Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on this absolutely breathtaking piece of gold. I loved this discriptive work. As soon as I read the third and fourth line, I was captivated and hungry for "clam chowder". A genuine work of art.
In a post-coup America, an Illinois farm boy is drawn into the resistance by his brother's death. Captured, he is given a choice: betray his friends, or the girl he loves will be lobotomized.
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blessin's Sis Anne on a very strong piece (no pun intended!)
cynth'ya lewis reed
...Michael
Cheers
Alain
Bonnie