Saturday, May 25, 2013
and when i press the sharp edge of my knife against it, its skin resists for a moment and then, barely a second later, gives way and breaks. Strings of gut and blood spill onto the table top and i pull the knife away trailing its innards. I scrap the pieces into the feeding bin and run the knife under the tap. i watch the red and black disappear into the drain and i feel like a murderer.
i think i lost a small part of my soul today.
i love fish, okay? I pick fish over chicken, i pick fish over lamb, i pick fish over beef, i pick fish. i love it raw and i love it steamed, grilled, fried and cooked in any way possible.
me and fish, we have a love affair, an all-consuming one. heh.
but actually, physically slicing it while it's still very much whole is well, pretty sickening.
but after a while, i became numb to it and i threw myself against the clock. How many can i cut through before the minute is up?
and i wonder if a bit of my soul had died.
and i wonder where did it go?