…and everything freezes, I can still hear the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, waiters rushing by with their trays, the chef shouting for the sauce, plates on the passe ready to be whisked away, something bubbling on the back burner, something else sizzling at the front, the oven alarm sounds, it’s the cue to bring everything together, a synchronised motion of the entire kitchen team to get the plates out into the dining room.
this time, things don’t go to plan. Slowly the crowd is forming around me.
I’m frozen in time after cutting the piece of cake, (also frozen) and preparing it for later. As usual, dip the knife in hot water when cutting frozen cakes, then clean the knife and cut straight and cleanly. That’s the way we were taught, cutting cakes correctly, all those years ago, and that’s the way I still do it to get a perfect cut.
This time, once in a million years(?), I wipe the knife, cut cleanly, the chef is shouting something at me and forcing his way to the front of the crowd and sees me standing, staring, frozen in amazement, and there it is:
the ancient image of an elephant waiting for me…