Feast Without Names
Where light becomes taste,
and the city devours its own reflection.
Feast Without Names
Where light becomes taste,
and the city devours its own reflection.
No restaurant bears a name here.
Plates rise like altars; wine glows like confession.
The city feasts upon itself — quietly, reverently,
until flavor becomes faith, and appetite becomes art.
Every bite a relic
every table a throne.
Every drop of sauce
remembers the patience of centuries.
relic
relic
Every drop of sauce
remembers the patience of centuries.
Every bite a relic
every table a throne.
Every drop of sauce
remembers the patience of centuries.
relic