Carrots and flowers

Rise from the bed; drag the blanket while walking in search of the bathroom. See my reflection on the mirror and pee with the pajamas down to the knees; notice how dark the circles under my eyes are and try to get rid of them by scrubbing like crazy. Pour coffee and start arranging vegetables and stuff to make zucchini soup I dream about. Food replace sex in my dreams; careful next time on the market, try not to get over excited with aubergine or carrots. Take a look inside the soup pot while the avocado oil almost cries. Feel the urge to jump on it and see how domestic hell must be; chopped potatoes and zucchinis not as excited with the idea. Little did they know their future wait in a blender; is some sort of blending device in the future of all? Getting a bit existentialist here or must stop mixing Sartre and Beauvoir with “Jules and Julia”? Too much garlic and pepper for Misses Dalloway. No flowers today …