»Monoide« by Crispy Brown Rolls

Minimal Aspects Of A Brumal Breakfast

Its cold outside but the kitchen is warmed to melt the stiff bones. The sweet smell of coffee soars in the air. Five crispy brown rolls are lying in the little basket, still saving the ovens warmth and evolving an irresistible scent. On one hand nobody should touch this beautiful still life; on the other hand the longing hunger is too powerful.

Take one; the knife glides into it with a crispy sound. Crumbs fly away on the table, floor and clothes. Splitting one into two, the rolls halves lie on the plate life on razors edge.

The warm and close smell of fresh baked rolls dispreads the kitchen, fills the nose and leaves a first slight taste on your tongue. You long to bite into one of its halves. But to make the delicious treat complete, theres still yearning some butter. Neither it shouldnt be to cold, nor to mellow; its perfect temperature is one of the preconditions for the succeeding of this morning ritual.

Finally the great moment has come. The first morsel is always the best. Complacency flows through your whole body and you feel the power of the elementary things of life. Sometimes its so easy to get the self-sufficient, Buddhist smile on your face.

The day may come, the year may come were prepared.