I can’t identify the emotion this woman’s commentary is making me feel
olive you can’t leave this in the tags
Transcription courtesy of @upsidedownvanilla
‘A Rolex on your wrist, brown onion, yes, melanin for the winnin’. Rosemary. Why God must have delivered those oils himselves. The peas take a bath. The break. The cut. The purée. Thank you for straining that. Why, livers, yes, the neighbors of the lungs. People sleep on livers; I prefer mines in brown gravy, drenched over a bed of white rice. The way you folded that into the flour: delivered by the angels. You have laid the liver to rest in a skillet of hot oil. The vampires are shooketh. The garlic is overpowering. Be careful; methheads see that torch and they’re gonna go crazy. Artwork on a plate. It feels as though I’m preparing myself for an interview with Hannibal Lecter. The wine is always decadent. You, sir, have misbehaved’
