Tales from a Fishwife

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Mortality jewels. Platinum.

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Forever apart-together. The tin soldier and the paper ballerina.

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Tiger in the green. Plus point: hardworking. Minus: the plant is now dying.

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The wheatsheaf signifies strength, because bound together the strands of wheat are strong, but singly, they will break and bend at the slightest touch.

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9 beads, a reminder. Live in the moment.

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Simple things are hard to make simple.

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macaulay

Hi…

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…my name is…

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MACAULAY.

 

Every time I walk the aisles in supermarkets, I am amazed by how much packaged sauces promise success. I’d buy up most of my amazement, except HY stops me. Like a fishwife.

And like a fishwife, I go on admiring and taking packaged sauces out of the racks, like I have never been civilized. Perhaps I have not.

I cannot cook. I don’t particularly enjoy eating (not like a foodie). But it amazes me (for a long time now and still today) how love dictates how food is cooked, and its lack of how that food tastes.

Hunger is a desire. Desire is not hunger. Some will forever be fed by hunger. Some say desire is hunger.

I know the taste of answers, but I don’t know the answer.

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