Eat!

Eat

Renovation starts here

Just a few words to explain what this is about.

I’ve been a hearty eater for 20 years. I wake up in the morning and if I say I’m not hungry you would better call an ambulance. You can probably tell that from half of my holiday pics. But in particular moments, when I find myself in the Big Haste and lose a bit of balance, I grow convulsively hungry, I forget to chew and simply devour what I lay my hands on, gorging my appetite instead of actually savouring what’s in front of me. All my meals coincide with brief periods of selective amnesia, a dreamless sleep.

In the past few months, I’ve been regularly eating as if there was no tomorrow.
Eating competitively.
Eating as if all those around me had asked me to eat as a proof of love.
As if, like when I was a kid, I had been confined to the table until you finish it all.
Blunting myself at fixed intervals. Growing dull for hours, my heart beating convulsively, everything else sacrificed to the goddess Peristalsis in the temple of the Lestrigones.

And then, last week I dreamt that I was in the very room that witnesses my daily feed contests, where I said to myself (disguised as a non-existent friend that was growing fatter and fatter every day) “Stop it now. You go on eating like that and all your beauty will be gone, and you’ll die”. I saw her face’s transformation, hour-long, into a grimace of sheer pain. The people whom I thought were glad to see me eat that much approving of my words. “True, that way she’ll die, and you were the one who had to tell her, you and no one else”.

So this is a sort of mantra, against growing too comfortable, forgetting, neglecting my balance of body and spirit, for something pointless. “I’ve finished my meat. Can I go play now?”

Sono nata in Bulgaria e sono cresciuta in Italia. Mi occupo di traduzioni e revisioni creative, pignole e attente alla qualità per importanti clienti internazionali. Vivo in Olanda con il caro D. Lavoro con l’inglese, l’italiano, occasionalmente con il bulgaro.

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