Watership

I recently had honey goat cheese with chives. The tangy dense creaminess painted across my tongue so lovingly, a private affair that felt so hedonistic that it gave me a shiver of guilty pleasure. My old tastebuds, nurtured by kraft cheese, would’ve died at this ostentatious display of sensory wealth. And real wealth, at $8 for 4 ounces of cheese.

God made me indulgent. God also made me tangy. But God didn’t make me with goat cheese, God made me with guilt-cheese.

Sex, baby! Is such a wretched sin. Sex is spun up in a delicate spider web of desire, light fibers catching the wind and barely shimmering in the light until you’re ensnared. And then that delicate thread snaps with the destructive momentum of a steel coil. How can something so intangible and invisible as desire tear apart so many beautiful things?

-Watership