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Let everthing happen to you,
Beauty and terror.
Just keep going,
No feeling is final.
Rainer M. Rilke
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THE FORGOTTEN PLATTER

It is beyond senses, how the cloying piquancy of figs lingers in our mouths for a long time. To bear such an intense flavor often comes in an elusive manner, as though the complexity cannot be contained within a ceramic ashet in the heart of a forgotten larder.
THE SALVER.
(A Dossier of Forsaken Souvenirs.)
Here lies the segments of saccharine edibles, napkins soaked in the liquor of longing, and two hearts beating against one another.
THE SLICE.
(Where Devotees Meet to Devote.)
A cathedral for those who never truly grasped the theory of sacrifice, convened in a bestial act of devouring everything in sight.
THE SILVERS.
(A Patron of Saccharine Revelation.)
A smudge of essence at each of our fingertips. Borrow as you please, return as its whole piece. Everything you take comes with risk, for whatever you have might be seized in a flisk.


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