“Yes to oysters swollen through butter. Yes to thighs cooked by glass, my hand a hot knife between. Yes to prosciutto, it’s salt slick; to avocados bursting, ripe. Our teeth clanged. I tasted blood and chocolate. Yes to the fatthicksweet of it, to cream, to froth that rises, to the crunched lace of the ear and the tender behind the knee…”
— May 15, 2025 09:15AM
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