Tag: breakfast

A matter of practice

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

I think I’m overthinking this—life, I mean.
After all, how complicated can it be?

You wake up in the morning,
pee,
wash your hands,
prepare breakfast,
eat it,
brush your teeth,
change,
sit in front of the computer for a few hours doing something someone thinks is important enough to pay you for,
have lunch,
read an essay or manhwa,
work some more,
have dinner while watching a coming-of-age comedy drama or isekai anime,
go for a walk,
do some grocery shopping on the way home,
find a suitable time filler for the evening—write a poem, perhaps,
take a shower,
brush your teeth,
jump into your pyjamas,
and go bye-byes.

After a while, you become proficient enough to forget the last time you asked:
Is that all?

A surreal watercolour painting showing a man having breakfast

A bland diet for now

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

I’ve watched very many films—very bad ones—for a single line only,
and I’m gradually realising how these one-liners pave my sense of artificiality.
But I’ll be all right, I guess. It’s not like we stop making dinners
just because we burn our fingers once or twice.
For now, though, I think I’ll stick to silent cinema.
Who knows, maybe it will be like those avocado sandwiches
and chamomile tea that you first eat to soothe an upset stomach,
but after a while, they simply become your regular breakfast.

A surreal watercolor painting showing a half-angelic figure flying out of a room in the clouds and a man with a hat sitting thoughtfully on a stool

French breakfasts

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

You know it’s time to leave when every breakfast becomes an act
of desperation, and yet you prolong this little la-la land in denial
as if a stuffed croissant with café au lait were the epitome of certainty.

Didn’t you admit long ago that someone else had already spared you
from the hell of paradise? Knowing you, I doubt you have any desire
to answer. If anything, you’d pretend there was no question asked.

And there is still the unrewarding experience of returning home,
which sounds a bit melodramatic, even for someone like you,
but if you wanted to, it could simply be reduced to a logistics problem.

After all, a broken heart can’t find solace in complaining about cold feet.