It’s not easy to put bread on the plate…each day, knowing that there is no alternative, but to put it there on time. Because the intestine is not your heart. It does not have that beautiful shape. It is a long winding ugly tube which has to be filled up each day, three times a day. It howls hard when it does not happen, reminding you that the plate is empty. This cognizance makes it both easy and hard to keep putting the bread on the plate, each day, without fail. Easy because you know what to do and difficult because you HAVE to know what to do!

Something will suddenly flash some day, in your mind, and you will be elated. 'Ah! I am free now. I now know, there are winds above the surface which await to carry me away to those far off unseen lands. The people there don't care about the bread and the plate as their intestines are shaped like heart. I think I can jump hard enough to be caught in those currents and be flown away. Life will be so different when I wake up tomorrow'. You go to bed swinging in the loving arms of those winds. You finally tasted the elixir of life…… The morning, alas, is the same old one. Only worse. That flash was, well, just a flash. It’s vanished in thin air leaving you gasping. And you have that dreaded plate again to put the bread on.

But you still don’t stop filling the plate, because you are waiting for another flash. You live on, as you want to be seen, heard, loved and looked up to. A longing for one glimpse of that elusive far away land keeps you going. Then there are more plates to put bread on, and more. That flash now comes only once in a while. Its dimmer now, and fainter. The desire to jump hard to be caught in the currents seems worthless. And one day, the flash shows up for the last time. You see it with blinking eyes, not even sorry to know that it’s the last of it.

I wonder sometimes whether this is the fabric of nature, to waste enough mortals, who put enough breads on the plate, to destine the genesis of an immortal whose intestine is shaped like a heart…… The one who nurtured you thought he was the last one to be wasted, but was he wrong?