written by Fulla Sunshine*
Slowly but steady, the fish occupying my sight starts to disappear. It is entire: head, skin, meat, bone.
A couple of minutes pass and the shape is not precise anymore, it has started to vanish. The meat starts to diminish; the white is getting less and less everytime, letting the grey skin stand alone in the middle of the dish. But by matter of solidarity, or simple fish anatomy, the grey runs away to catch up with the first white parts easier to stir apart. Not A fish anymore, not anymore what it used to be.
The bone, that magnificent stable and consistent structure equally dividing the body stands in the middle equally dividing the fish but suddenly, a crunchy peace is not there anymore. Where did it go? What has happened to that impressive natural ladder? Spine by spine, bone by bone, crunchy and flavorful, it is also gone. Not a fish anymore, not anymore what it used to be.
And the corpse stands bodyless in the middle of the dish, amputated, helpless. Only the solitary head. But the feast is not finish yet. The best is to come… and it starts with the cheeks: soft, juicy, mellow cheeks. Not a head anymore, not anymore what it used to be.
Like a skull, the perforated head looks at the empty ceiling with a haunting lifeless gaze. Not for long, cause the eye will also soon fall victim of the banquet. And suddenly there is no longer a swollen white eye… only space, transparent, infinite. Not a head anymore, not anymore what it used to be.
The dish is empty, as if nothing had ever been there. Not even a trace of the feast. Not a fish anymore, not anymore what it used to be.
Fulla Sunshine is a contributor of Black Camel. This story sets in Socotra, which has inspired her.