aleksandr-nicolai

          I stared at the so-called “healthy” meal in front of me as the steam flowed around me, moistening my skin with its meat-scented mist. I could see the miniscule bubbles of grease break the surface of this tube of rejected meat products and then slide down where they were absorbed by the cheap bread, still sprinkled with ghastly white flour. This phallic amalgamation of pork parts that lay before me was to be my sustenance for the day. I never had seen or heard of this form of culinary foodstuff. My father had encouraged me to be a vegetarian and my mother agreed it was a healthier path, although she herself regularly ate su