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<PRE><B>
<font size=5>Negative Space <a href="ns_idx.html" target="_top"> (a series) </a></font>
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Part 9: Yolk</font>
Another installment in the
quest to scan my entire apartment</B>
Whenever I make an omelette I think of the movie "Big Night".
There's a scene in which one of the main characters, exhausted
after a draining night, makes an omelette. I won't go into
details (just see the movie, it's worth it) but the scene is
a moment of simple grace, in which three people share food.
Not a single word is uttered, yet so much is said.
It seems fitting that in this scene, a moment of pure and simple
life, that they would eat eggs. Eggs are beautiful, a life
condensed into its most essential components, with perhaps the
most perfect packaging in nature -- a shell, a fluid enclosed,
a seed of sorts, floating inside. A glowing center. Yellow,
like the sun. A potential for life.
And in one of lifes gentle moments, I just scrambled three of
the suckers and ate them for breakfast.
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