the tongue.

i'd like to compare the joy of food

i'd like to compare it to the feeling i get when i see my cousin emotionally volcanic in the midst of an old growth rain forest, his eyes shining and wet, reflecting that power and presence of thriving sylvan life.

there is a nourishment, in feeding from another's experience, be it fresh and true.

there is a joy in sharing, fearlessly, as the twinkle from a distant sun, which shows itself in the night sky

as old as light itself.