Modest carrot cake
This week at an expensive restaurant I ate intricately composed dishes layered like poetry. Afterward, the meal
and its philosophy were explained, and everyone sat wide-eyed in rapturous appreciation. I, too, applauded and
set my face in an expression of intelligent fervor. Later, at home, I put on my pajamas, turned on the television, and
watched a film about a soldier who parts from his beloved when she leaves forever for a faraway land. After that
I poured myself a glass of hot milk and cut a slice of very plain cake baked without sophistication, which was so
simply delicious it needed no philosophical explanation.