The image of the woman with the pink shirt reminds me of when I was 5 or 6, and we were at a house of my parent’s friend in France. They were gutting a chicken and all the organs were laid out on the table. One of the kids grabbed my hand and said with a cute French accent: ‘touch! touch!’ as I watched her push my finger to put a dent in what looked like a kidney or liver. They were all so slimy and I thought they were going to start moving and crawling off the table.
The image of the table reminds me of the hours and hours we’re ‘forced’ to stay and eat dinner each night. Do you remember what your parents made you eat and you couldn’t leave the table until you finished it? Mine was usually steak, and I remember endlessly chewing until it was completely mushy and tasteless, kind of like chewing on a wet sock.
13 August 2011
Posted by : sara remington : at 3:25 PM