It´s only for your comfort, trust me.


— Listen to “Lest my water break” from Kapitan Korsakov while reading

Some say they were meant to be together. They met shortly after they were put together in the plastic bag. Exchanging looks, separated by their fellows. How can someone feel so distant and still familiar?

They shared the same destiny, as it is mostly the case when you land in this kind of packaging. Most of them will end up forming the outer sides of a nourishing mini-meal for they were slices or toast.

He was on one side of that artificially formed loaf, she was stuck on the other. As it is mostly the case with slices stuck together, everyone is craving some personal space. And often, the other side looks more comfortable.

The grass is always greener on the other side. So it goes.

They weren’t interested in personal space for it was useless when separated. One day, their package got bought. Excitedly, most slices were discussing how they might end up. What kind of sandwich will they be? With meat? With cheese? A vegetarian one? Or as the holy grail, a French Toast! Well you see, toast slices are not really looking for anything special, they are not even a proper bread. But one thing they really want is for sure. To be spread with butter. Not any fake butter or margarine. Proper full fat butter.

Is the grass really greener on the other side? If it is spread with butter, yes. So it goes.

2 weeks went by and they had lost all hope by then that they would be united as a sandwich. Only little did they know that their new owner was especially fond of the end pieces. So as their day came, the whole package was opened and they were the first to be used in the sandwich making process.

No French toast, they said. But still, they were happy. Finally, being united, forming the union of a sandwich. She was picked up first. Ready to be baptised with the foundation, the bond of all sandwiches, butter. As soon as the knife touched her, she felt that it wasn’t what she was expecting. It was margarine. Disturbed she laid back onto the table.

We can make it work, he said to her. It is only important what we make of it. She couldn’t live with it. Weeks of waiting, longing to become something greater than just a slice of bread, only to be spread with margarine. He tried to talk to her but her mind was shut.

As soon as she got picked up to be put together with her lover, she leapt forward towards the ground.

If I waited forever to see the light, only in the last minuted to be denied. I am leaping forward for

The grass is always greener

after suicide.