There is no feast without death and destruction.
Behind every feast is a great deal of violence. Things are killed, pulled and plucked, sliced and smashed. Heat is applied.
If you were the potato as it sat in the oven, you would not celebrate the feast that is about to occur.
It’s a simplistic parallel, but life is the same. There is no feast without death and destruction. Sometimes we’re the soil, sometimes the potato and sometimes we are the feaster.
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