The Fish Head - 1
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMo6EGHhC311WJbvA_uhauZccWdzGcQnzm1Sr1XYUoTdUGMsaiTUAHXPYMKcTxnrJ73nFV1t3D8K5kq_IX-_64BIvgmvxsSDUGDy7Y0DUcmke-3pZKkL7-jqHoiRvd-WYckF6VX0nC2_Ca6rKPUMdmjsQ0mRk5hukRZT40J4leywg2m8Mq8luAdA-z/w400-h266/food-6257358_960_720.jpg)
You won't be pleased to hear this, but I am trying hard to forget you. A relationship is not some random data stored on a smartphone. When it starts taking space, you tap and delete, maybe empty the trash too. A relationship is more sticky, clingy, and slimy. And ours came tied by a milk-white cord, smeared in bright maroon blood and the deepest purple of the placenta. I never told you this, but I have stopped eating chicken and goat meat. Over here, people eat all things alive—cigadas that emerge after 17 years of hibernation, sea urchins, and ostriches. The planet is burning; the news of a never-experienced-before cataclysm has now become commonplace. One step more, and we fall from the precipitous conditions we have manufactured for ourselves to our own end. I can see, feel, and hence I am trying to make reparations, seize the moment, and pivot to something better, more sensitive, more gentle, more humane. However, I am cooking salmon curry today. Somehow, I h