Food is an important factor in human existence. We need it to live, it’s as simple as that, and the remains of food and kitchens can tell us a great deal about the people in the past. And that’s what Consider the Fork goes into.
Everything on this earth eats, and so humans have done it ever since they existed as well. And their eating habits teaches us a lot about humans of past times, as archaeologists often find the remains of meals in the discarded trash that remains for many more centuries than many people would guess. Consider the Fork tries to explain the history of human interaction with food in a comprehensible way by comparing historic tools with modern ones, and placing the historic ones into our modern kitchen. And to be really honest, it all sounds delicious!
The burning sun was too much, its rays beating the earth without mercy, not the slightest breeze bringing the smallest bit of comfort to the people down on earth. Standing under the earth, technically speaking. Marisol had always prided herself a little because of her coloured skin protecting her from the blasting sunrays, where her colleagues in the field just slowly roasted. However, today even her natural affection of the warmth wasn’t enough. As she looked up from the trench she was in Marisol wiped the sweat from her forehead. She couldn’t believe how blue the sky was. Had it been this radiating when they got in the trenches, digging for the remains of ancient Romans? She couldn’t remember, all Marisol could think off was the heat that seemed to sink into her skin. Into her mind. Again she wiped her forehead, but she didn’t feel any sweat. It made her frown. How could she feel so overheated and not sweat?
“Hey Sol, you okay?” Marisol looked up to Sarah, grinning as she gave her friend a thumbs up. It was a second before her eyes rolled and she felt her knees give in. The sun still blasting overheat, the last thing Marisol fully registered was that incredibly bright blue sky.
She had always wanted to dive and ever since she got her license there was nothing that could keep Naia away from the ocean for more than a couple of days. Or in this case, a couple of nights. The night dive had been planned for so long but had been postponed almost as much times now. The sea was too rough, too cold, the lighting sucked, or she dove too deep and long during the day to be allowed under again. Maybe it was the peace and quiet around her or that her partner was only able to communicate with very basic gestures that made diving so attractive to her. Under water there was no fuzz or social obligations. There were deadlines, of course, being set up by the amount of oxygen her tank still carried and the amount of nitrogen that built up in her body. But those were easy limitations, clear rules she couldn’t forget if she wanted to live. It was all so easy down here, so peaceful, and so clear.
Naia had been examining a curious octopus for a while when she suddenly realised how well she could see the creature. It was a full moon, she had noticed that when she put on her gear earlier, but to have so much natural light under water was uncommon. She could see all the spots on the creatures skin, shifting as he was trying to make up his mind whether she was a threat or just a menace. Naia frowned as she looked up. The moon was beaming, the rays of light penetrating the water showing her the entire underwater world and it seemed as if the light just got more intense by each passing second. Was she absolutely sure that her partner wasn’t getting closer with the lamp? But the blinding light did seem to come from above her, as the last thing Naia registered was the incredibly blue sea around her.
I wonder… I’ve wondered a lot last year.
2018 was a rough year, a year consisting of sadness, tears, relieve, and stress. Other people were involved in all these aspects and moments, some good and some intensly bittersweet. Those last ones I will carry with me for the rest of my life.
2018 changed me, altered me in a way that can never be undone, but that isn’t a bad thing. After questioning everything I knew for several years in a row, the puzzle pieces fell together during one fateful summer-evening. That evening I cried, but this time they were tears of joy unlinke the bitter tears of the start of the year. I won’t go too much into detail on what happened in January, mostly because it is personal and even more because that is solely between him and me.
I sometimes wonder if he still reads my website. If he would read this. I wonder if should reach out but then I remember that time and space are things I hold dear and that I should respect. So I don’t, and I walk into 2019. Hopeful that I can shake the writer’s block that hit me in 2018 which kept me unable to produce anything for almost six months. Hopeful and anxious to be able to fully live my life now that I know that one important detail: that I was in the closet so deeply I barely realised it myself. But now I do. It is something I couldn’t share with him, mostly because I didn’t realise it myself yet. I am not bisexual, as I thought I was for a long time, I am gay. But also still a little bit hopeful that I will ever hear from him again, because even after a whole year I still miss my friend.
But for now I am going to be the most me I can be. Completely out in the open, out in the world, trying to fully comprehend what it means to be attracted to the same sex. It is extremely confusing, even after the couple of months that have now passed since the acceptance hit me, the moment that flattened me like a bulldozer. Because by all gods every worshipped, concrete is hard and tough when you get squashed on it. I have wondered for a while if I should be out in the open about everything, about myself, but if I can’t be who I am than I might as well not write at all. This year I worked on a short story, of which the first installment was published here two days ago (although in Dutch) which is partly therapeutic to write and partly just fun. It is partly autobiographical, it is partly pure fiction and I will let the readers guess on which is which. It doesn’t matter, what matters is that I can close off 2018. The year in which I moved into a house that turned out to have a completely false start, with moldy walls and no floor during the first three months. The year in which I really started my job and had to settle into the live of the working adult. And the year in which I finally got my diving license. So 2019, here I am. And I still have a bone to pick with your predecessor, so you better behave!