Gratiela Brancusi Instagram – I don’t like sashimi but I like to eat cooked food by the ocean. It’s one way to feel at home although the ocean was nowhere to be found when I was born and we favored corn flakes and smoked chicken in my house. Most days. It was one of those days, while sitting on a rock and working on my grilled salmon, when I stared at the ocean’s feet longer than ever before. They didn’t look happy. No feet ever do, do they? They work the hardest and deserve better. A union perhaps. The truth is, more often than not, they’re ugly and rigid like a pekingese. Feet that is. Someone who’s opinion I pay for said I can be overly critical so I closed my eyes and I drenched its sanctity the feet thought in a mouthful of ocean spray and seaweed. And then, when safe enough from my own self, I opened my eyes again. The feet, now angry, were wrestling their way into a nihilistic body of flour. Sitting in the middle of it covered in flour repellent skin would be my idea of happily ever after. If anyone asked. It’s what George would have wished for right after velvet. Then it occurred to me that all I want is to live in flour. That was the day I stole the ocean. With one swing of a ladle. (1/2)
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