By Steven Mangine
A response to “The Beauty of Education“
I wake up hungry. I shuffle to the kitchen, perform egg inventory, select the pan, so on and so on. Ten minutes later, edible eggs appear. But who so on and so on-ed? My hands, but somehow I had not been operating them. In a hand, a whisk whisked, eggs liquefied, sizzled, and landed on a plate. But where was I as feet shuffled, olive oil smelled sweet, and outside the kitchen window, snow fell? Somewhere I had left myself behind.