marzipan for breakfast
fiction
edward w pritchard
After union in the harem the sultan always sent marzipan with his compliments. Last nights anticipation and deliverance is gone and bright light fills the halls and he sits off reading his books and she has tea and marzipan.
Life's a cosmic joke for us. A Doctor carefully attending to his duties in the middle of the operation realizes it's his own arm he cuts into to repair the hand.
Life's purpose evades me: why did we go to formal dinners and then worry about our manners and protocol. Why not just sip your glass of capers and milk and enjoy your book. Search for Roxanna or build a Taj Mahal.
Life has meaning. Fame is always beyond reach, and success an illusion; read your book, feel the warm sun, and remember the Turkish delight.
end
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