I may have forgotten how to write.
No question, I have forgotten how to write.
And yet, this page is still here.
I thought of you today, dear blog, while talking to myself and mentally chronicling the process of eating a water chestnut for an imaginary audience. A singhara. Terrible in puri form, but so yummy straight out of the water.
A fruit that resembles a minotaur so closely, it could be its closest genome equivalent. (And this moment is when, ladies and gentlemen, my geneticist progenitors disowned me).
First, cut off the two horns. Then the back of the head, and slowly peel the top off like a helmet. Pop the white rounded triangle in your mouth. Think about the joy of being alive.
Somehow, the green ones have been much sweeter than the purples. Who'd have thought. Yet another mystery of the universe.
