Agege Buredi (Bread)

This is one of those days that my taste buds are on a full scale rebellion against my current state of affairs with regards to the nature of my meals. Somehow I had seamlessly graduated from the typical Lagos Island staple meals to a more gourmet kind of New Yorkish cuisines without any guilt of abandonment to those delicacies that strengthened my bones and made me more hopeful of a better life. Funny how we despise the things that we so cherish when we find something that outclasses them? Those days when I flip magazines that display foreign dishes, my tongue begs for an escape beyond the boundaries of the lips, just for a sneak peak at what the eyes are communicating to the sensory organs, creating a flood of saliva rushing over my wash-red flab.
I had thought to myself that I wasn’t the kind that could be affectionately attached to anything that would create a longing feeling in its absence. I could easily let go, especially in the light of something new and thrilling. I longed to dine in the Olive Gardens and the Chart Houses, while snacking on the revered New York Pizza, and relishing a hot cup of Starbucks Frappuccino; after the weird routine of inhaling the pleasant odor, perhaps to catch a feeling of the contents in their original state. Have I been disappointed thus far? I wouldn’t say so. I have my days when my bowels literally run ahead of me looking for something in the classic food network recommendations, and confessing the Burger Kings and allures of the Big Macs do place a spell which I so effectively dispel. But in all, there remains this inner feeling that I just ate something that just ain’t right.
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