I saw her on my way to the bakery the other day. She was as thin as rice paper. Even thinner. She looked pale and exhausted. It felt to me she even did not have strength enough to lift her feet as she walked. Her cheekbones looked like blade razors cutting through her transparent skin of parchment colour. She had on a beige body warmer and denim jeans. Her each leg looked thinner than a walking stick.
I am no stranger to fear. So I felt frightened. As I saw her, I scrunched up inside as if somebody was wringing my vitals. It took me a few moments to come back to my normal self. At the time, the girl was nowhere to be seen. She was gone. The wind was howling. I saw myself - my past self.
The girl I encountered reminded me of bodily pain and soul ordeal that I, too, experienced a handful of years back. Not that I forgot those or that I claim that she may be starving herself, it is just that I never saw anybody else who would astonishingly resemble me – that desperate me - as this thin girl in thick denim jeans did. (I am always three minutes away from bringing up my story over and over, you know.)
Unlike present me who was speeding up to the bakery, she was hastily withdrawing from the place, as if she suddenly found herself on a mine field. Three years before now, I did the same too. But today we bread and I speak the same language and look at each other without me running away from the first sight of it. That makes for a happy me. I wish I had as harmonious relationship with men in my life, because I haven’t got one as yet. I mean, is it normal to say to a man I want to go home when you are, actually, being kissed? I think it’s not. At least, I have bread in my life, so be what may.
Are you hungry, Dear Reader? Please, come on in, take a seat and help yourself. I’ve just made crostini with goat’s cheese and sage. (I'm sorry you don't see it in a photo.)
Normally, you use sage with meat, right? But it turns out that sage is a fine bedfellow (just like time) for mild- and aged goat’s cheese. You ask how I made it. Very simple. Monday-like. Toast a slice of bread you like, top it with aged goat’s cheese and sprinkle over it a touch of finely chopped sage leaves. You don’t want sage to overpower tangy aroma of cheese and earthy flavour of toasted bread, so use the herb light-handedly. You can also season your crostini with fresh-ground black pepper which nicely complements the goat’s cheese taste.
Now as we chew noisily on our crostini let me tell you a secret, or rather a beautiful memory I never want to forget: I was peacefully padding along a kitchen; fresh bread was being warmed up in an oven, filling the room with an exhilarating odour of toasted wheat and illusive grassy flavours; the dear man was in my embrace or I was in his. I did not run away. Neither from bread nor from the man. I want to remember it, be what may.