Back at home, food used to narrate stories. Here, food does not travel far to the nooks and crannies of Velutha’s heart; it only reaches his stomach well enough to leave him looking healthy and strong.
To sit on thy laurels seems apposite, Yet to dig graves for perceptive pleasure resemble a breach Of lines bridging the things learned, unlearned.
I traverse between solid and liquid-
Lacerating the unfortified,/ Picking at the flesh for bad blood to find
Back at home, food used to narrate stories. Here, food does not travel far to the nooks and crannies of Velutha’s heart; it only reaches his stomach well enough to leave him looking healthy and strong.
To sit on thy laurels seems apposite, Yet to dig graves for perceptive pleasure resemble a breach Of lines bridging the things learned, unlearned.
Spirit breaks at home along with love mingled with innocence.
