AND DANCE IN THE DARK

Last night I cooked something with chili peppers. Shortly after I came out of the kitchen, she (my apartment mate) went in. And started coughing. Which is sad, because it indicates that the likelihood of finding another person who appreciates my style of food may be rather slim.

Years ago I went to a farewell luncheon for a departing coworker. There were six of us, and I felt distinctly like the third wheel. But the food was truly exceptional. I have never been back to that restaurant.

Lunch yesterday was 生滾肉丸粥 ('saang gwan yiuk yuen juk'; rice porridge with meat balls) and a cup of Hong Kong milk tea. There were two other customers in the place, eating alone also.



Sharing a meal is sacramental. But most people eat crap.
Eating alone is much more common now.
Modern life.


My apartment mate bought a lovely tres leches cake a few days ago.
We shared it. Cake is such a lovely word.


Dine by one's lonesome.
Smoke outside.




==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================