How unintentional was the cocoa's drop that morning?
I still don't know. It was 8 a.m. I was trying to prepare my breakfast, but in the blink of an eye, my worktop became a sweet mess. The coffee pot stared at me, motionless and, probably, afraid of another clumsy and failed movement. Everything was in a deep silence when I realised that my heart had stopped beating, four or five seconds after the drop. Then, blood came back energetically, I took a noisy breath and I understood what was all about. Light, pictures. Need, beyond desire.
But then, the joke, the attempt.
