Today I ate a bowl of soup at my desk. Warm and spicy. But at the same, not food. Not really. The soup was a moment. To sit and not think. To eat a noodle, and feel like a scarf was being wound around my neck, but not worry about buying a scarf or making a scarf. Or teaching the dictionary. Or make a better commitment to my students, my child, my bathroom floor, my marriage, taking vitamins, flossing my teeth.
Just eat the noodle, drink the broth. Not even hungry. Just doing what a mouth does.
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