Theo Zgraggen

I am home.

Thin flakes delicately dancing on my tongue. Crispiness crinkling into little fragments as I bite deeper and deeper into its layers, each level getting slightly chewier and chewier until my teeth hit a bed of soft white savoury creaminess. A simple flavour rests in my mouth, allowing the love embedded in its molecules to enter through my sixth sense and down to the centre of my chest. Flashes to mountains and rivers and fields in the countryside; generations and generations of mothers and grandmothers and their mothers and mothers’ mothers passing this beacon of love to their children, tying families together in a warm embrace.