Suzanna

Chocolate Addict

I was brought up to believe that the only food I could ever need was fresh air and sunshine. The occasional rain would whet my appetite for the sunshiny feast ahead. And the air would serve as dessert for thick lustrous hair and long, lean, strong limbs. But then one day I got a whiff of chocolate sauce being thickly stirred in all its gooey glory. I died. Died like the girl in her teens who sees Brad Pitt for the first time. The coco scents just continued. Way into the evening, way past sunset, and it stuck in my hair and refused to leave me alone in my dreams at night. The coco caresses smothered my skin in a haze of brown and sugar. The whiffs made me giddy and left me reeling in a liquid of chocolate splendour that I could never feel or taste, but only smell. And when I awoke the next day, I had but a few hours of fresh air, before the onset of the chocolate hours. They paralysed me; even the wind stopped moving through me. I stood there not knowing what I could possibly do to get to the source. The centre of all that coco’ey essence. It must be a beautiful place. Then a little birdy told me. She asked me to stretch my roots down through the ground, past the people walking, past the cars running, way down to the chocolate.
And I did.

(On one of the trees at Café Fresco’s)