I get it, we're stuck at home until god knows when - with our WiFi and sanity intact (hopefully). There's enough about Covid-19, class politics, capitalism, privilege, pandemics, numbers, tolls and medical revelations. This isn't about that. This is about bread.
I will be able to make toast
for her in the mornings.
I will do my best to get it
right.
― Nina Lacour: Everything Leads to You
I often wonder how people figured
things out—simple things like bread
and butter. How did the first person know
to grind and knead and bake,
to milk and skim and churn?
How did someone realize they could soak
olives in lye or let grape juice ferment
inside casks of oak? How, when
we first leaned toward each other,
did our tongues know to touch
before our brains knew
we were going to kiss at all?
― Gayle Brandeis: for Michael
“I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin. I want.”
― Sara Gruen: Water for Elephants
“Love doesn't just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.”― Ursula K. Le Guin: The Lathe of Heaven
Listen to 'Bread & Butter' by Hugo, and you're really really really bored, make some damn bread:
