out from the casual service of bells

friday, the 6th of may
confectionary from a heavily industrialized country being sold in another part of the world where the investment in infrastructure is at odds with the cultural norms that define worth and personal upstanding.
indupitably a social paradox, albeit one that is but a loop strained from the mesh that this piece is testing, the point is, the links of sugar, manufacturing concentrations, wage labour, child vulnerability, nutritional vagaries, the tenuous state of that thing known 20 years ago back into the stretches of time as the staple diet, are blatantly displayed, in all their glorious optimism in the intercontinental behemoth, the duka, for which we give thanks and tarnished currency, taking sugar, nodding a little kickback to the dairy merchants who have hijacked the enterprise of sucrose, or evading them and selecting glucose on a stick, and we all take it and we all run on it, yup you see, we are all one in this, this is how we function as a together, we come together in the pursuit of curious gems in the one room emporium
it seeps out of you and the ingredients list is long, so long like the obituary of a particularly powerful man
it's one of the things you can say to yourself, if you really want some, you say to yourself at 5 in the early evening, tomorrow you can have some as you walk past the school on the way out of the front gates around 9 am
and because my arm has fully formed bone in it you understand that i am taller than the people with dancing expert eyes, attuned to the summons of the bell, in uniform, and can you see the grace after the motion, in the still, as synthetic emulsion flavoured with the essence of peanut becomes mine from all the places it has comes from and things it has been and whose existence means other things to other people in their lives, as the silver i had held in lieu rejoins the perpetual exodus of minted need and lowest common denomination.