An improvisatory, essentially indefensible, randomly configured tragi-comedy
(no great revelations are likely to be accrued from its consumption)
16 April 2013
The passing of a slice
For those for whom cake is an integral part of their lives, the last slice of a moist Vicky sponge, now dearly departed.
Now he belongs to the ages. He is not mine, he is the world's. He belongs not to our age, but to all ages. And yet, even though he belongs to all time and to all peoples, he is our own, for he was,... quintessentially,... cake.