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July 6, 2003 a creation story He sat on his porch reading, enjoying the warm breeze that flowed from the lake down the street toward his house, like water in a sluice.  Drops of condensation slid down the sides of his iced green tea and puddled muddy on the dusty glass-topped table.  He was hungry now, and this fact annoyed him.  Necessity was the mother of annoyance. A lovely dark-haired girl had given him a fresh, red tomato from her father's garden.  The tomato was ripe and ready for sacrifice.  It occurred to him then that he hadn't heard a human voice, not even his own, in over two days.  He extracted from the refrigerator a small steak of yellow-fin tuna and placed the fish on a plate next to the tomato.  He diced the tomato and arranged it on and around the cold fish.  To this he added olive oil, lime juice, salt, cracked pepper, and capers.  Different colors, different textures, different temperatures, complimentary flavors, all beautifully composed on a white plate. He ate his summer fare, his own creation, in silence.  And it was good.

©  2003 by the beastmaster