"I didn’t know that deja vu tasted like chee cheong fan."

[ein_myria]

vi

I visualise the shared experience of food like noodles; silky strands wrapped around my stomach and heart, curling out and away, loosely tethered to the next person and they to the next. I think of strands strengthened over celebrations, ethnicity, religious observances, geographical constraints on produce and availability, recipes passed on by demonstration and practised guesstimation. It tethers me to previous eaters, all eating the same things and craving the same flavours over an ever-changing backdrop. Could they see me, heartsick at the thought of our shared memories being gross, weird and inedible?

Did they ever wish to be something they were not, then hate themselves for even having that fleeting thought?

Context talks about food and shame in gross, weird, inedible (redux). For those who have never had dim sum, here's a Wikipedia link to Chee Cheong Fan.