Sof

Kitchen

Cooking—the bursting, splattering, briny, salt-mouthed, greasy, fragrant sensuality of it, the demands of heat and spice and sweetness under your roaming, scrambling hands—welcomed me home to my own body. This uncouth, uncooperative animal, a vessel and one unending open wound, this nightmare I’ve tried to negotiate and shrink my way out of, my body, revealed itself to me as I ate, not only with my mouth but with my whole ravenous form.