We may pay lip service to seared tuna on a bed of rocket…but given the choice most of us would go for scrambled egg on a bed of toast any day of the week. Nick Parker
I wouldn’t go so far as to say all of life can be summed up by a slice of toast, but close. Close enough.
(A little old lady stands up at the general meeting of her retirement center, holds up a fist and announces loudly, “Whoever can guess what I have in my hand gets to spend the night with me.” “An elephant?” shouts a smart aleck codger from the back of the room. “Close enough,” says she.)
How does your bread absorb soft butter? Synergetically, with sympatico, consanguinely? Before you spread your buttered heart onto the slice of his soul enlist your inner enginerd to double check the absorption capacity for alignment. Make a mass/volume estimation. Are you spatially related? Voluminously? The putting in and taking out equates mathematically, as in 1 = 1. Every bit of crumb open and airy and hungry. Unlimited capacity. Not a spot of grease released onto the napkin.