On this voyage everything reeks of rotting food. My hopes were encased in an egg.

My fears,

a cake in the oven. Expectations were held hostage in a cold-steel kitchen.

A flying sauce-pan carries me along. Frustration builds as the journey continues.

Time was lost

-- but not the space surrounding me.

…as if in a dark bordered tunnel. The periphery unnoticeable -- I felt it there.

Bright, shiny, large, The New Domain.

Returning is less painful. And upon taking it all in I am sated.

No sense of peace left within me.

And I wasn't even Hungry!

2-1-89 "Kitchens of Hell”