The interior rumbles, one moment, sweet release.
Sometimes it is just about losing something that makes the heart grow fonder. Luckily, as a metaphysical entity, I am easily pleased. So fondness grows in a puddle as much as it does dissolve in an ocean. So when I am sitting back in that puddle, undoubtedly, I will be content.
Sometimes I am losing that puddle, so I sit dry. Oh how I miss the days of having a cool bottom in all the heat of my food stall. So I sweat, I exercise, I fight the drops attacking my eyes.
I know how it is, working with spices. I am trying to dish something that tickles your brain. Most likely, you will dismiss it as something that will pass, something that is strange. Just like a new cuisine. Same as your tongue, your brain will get used to it.
So I am staying in the stall, hot, sweaty, spicy. Until you see the sweat on me. A water? Yes!
I pour it on my seat.
Thank you, I am in the puddle.
In balance, rebooted.