Fire

I've always wanted to stare into a burning fire for a long time. The feeling that the burning of a fire awakens is undefined, but somehow beautiful, hypnotic, I would even say magical. I'm not talking about any kind of fire, conflagration, burning rubber or gasoline, that's bullshit.

But a fire lit from collected dry wood that crackles when burning, that completely satisfies the pyromaniac in me. I don't know if it's because of some instinct about fire that would have to be written in the genetic record, and therefore the feeling. Maybe all of this has nothing to do with the records in the spiral code and I'm just rambling, but what is it... anyway, fire cheered up thousands of generations of our ancestors and helped humans survive as a species.

I can imagine a paradise, a family of some kind - sitting in a cave in 24,768 BC, looking with radiant faces at the fire that provides them with warmth and light.

And others, in another time, preparing food for themselves, enjoying the smells that spread. How their modest clothes are dried by a storm. How meat and fish are preserved with the help of smoke and salt...How the fire in the middle of the dwelling motivates those gifted with storytelling to start telling stories about vampires, devils and ghosts. And even in recent times, a couple of generations ago, a paradise rejoices at a fire on which chestnuts or potatoes are roasted.

And as we know, one of the rare absolute truths in this part of the multiverse is that there is no better cooked potato than one that has been stewed in embers and ashes.

That brings me to my next obsession, which is the potato as a plant, a miserable and unimportant spherical brown creature that is yet another in a series of underrated species that once brought salvation and today bring joy to the gums, an unsung hero of an era that began its wonderful journey from the Andes and onward across the world.

But that's another story...another rant, another banter...

(Roger Mortis, 134)