Bread

Vice of habituation. Wonder of childhood, magical feeling of raw materials and elements: flour, salt, oil, water, fire. Moments of pure vision, pure hearing, pure touch. Consciousness of life at one moment. All the memories revolve around bread. It carries an intense sense of life, and also, through I don’t know what internal association, an equally strong sense of death. The thought of life turns banal from the moment it isn’t blended with the thought of death. The pure essentials are superficial giants or little pagans. The pagan paid attention to both.