Hearing the midnight baying of a lost dog, my eating taste is again that of a pregnant Rosemary, gnawing on raw liver.....provoking more unusual, than normal, cravings, with an abatement by a flourless Ezekiel 4:9 raisin/cinnamon bread sandwich of peppery salami and raspberry/ bitter orange/rhubarb preserves....and a mug of Earl Gray tea with heavy cream and a pinch of salt......accompanying an omelette of quail eggs, pigs brains, green curry and sharp cheddar cheese.....now I'm fortified for a sojourney of contradictions, to the Huddle House world of normalcy....the temporalities that abide, just yards from my front door, then.....then, the return to my internal world of beans and rice.....wait~........I can smell Beth Boston's delicious fruitcake, resting in its whiskey-soaked blanket, and am returned to Larry Talbot in a chenille peacock robe, guiltily eyeing Ansel Adam's photo of a full moon over Yosemite..........
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