Friday, May 20, 2005

The parties were seldom amazing, but the food was very good. She rarely knew anyone well, just liked the opportunity to cook.
There was so much raw everywhere, and in college everyone sat around stripping bare. Now all around her daily life, people cloaked in the finery of self invented realities, while after work on her TV box, peroxide blondes paraded their nakedness, synthetic shades of tan.
She liked to cook colourful foods and dousing with olive oil. Fragrances of feta and mint, ripe mango and baking meat. Massaging steak with rosemary and lemon peel, she felt some inner peace. It would never be a career for her, which made it extra sweet.
Life in Dublin echoed emptiness, yet on the street everyone was having fun, parading with laughter and drunkiness. Young men singing the fields of Athenry.
In her gym she swam and watched TV, but never spoke to anyone. Sometimes considered motherhood, it was vague and not quite plausible.
And the office was a domain for her, still she was frustrated about not achieving anything and had to remind herself she was still young.
Her meditation was the recipies in the Guardian and the monthly Observer food magazine.
They never stocked Celeriac in Tescos or Superquinn, and she seldom made the Farmers market, time passed too quickly. But then it didn't seem to pass at all.
She thought back on those college days, not quite believing that was her, or that she was here.

Who is she? she sounds marvellous. I am hungry now for something meaty, minty and mango-y! Curse you!
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