clams and sautillé

one moment you are fed in the mouth delicious clams, all opened and cleaned with some drops of lemon on the top that make your taste buds explode with delight. next moment you struggle to open them by yourself by putting so much effort that makes the knife bend. the following moment you are one of that small creatures, you tingle by the citric acid and shudder in pain before swallowed down by carnal lips.

and then you stand in the middle trying to figure out who are you and who the heck you want to be. being pampered is pleasant and confirming but also deceitful and temporal. trying by yourself is lonesome and sad but strengthening and fulfilling. being about to be consumed is horrifying and painful but carefree and easygoing too.

and now what?

and why the fuck I can hear the shutter button from your camera clicking in my head?!