It is not only the taste but the heat, the warmth, the itch that teases the roof of the mouth: the brief stimuli that seize your attention, transient insights that awaken the mind to a thought, to stop and contemplate sensations experienced: raw garlic, parsley, olive oil, squid in ground cumin-infused tomato sauce.
The bitterness piques but never becomes: a suggestion, a hint, you wait, but the acrid bite never materialise. It plays, sates and leaves you desiring more. Skip, to repeat the experience, to suspend your disbelief, was it an apparition, was the experience real? To desire, to want more, to push the boundaries to the tipping point. Will the hint of bitterness become overpowering and raw? The base, the twisting of the face. And, pleasure, to allude to the extreme — the anticipation, thereof, frozen in time.
To the flan that melts in the mouth, sweet aromatic coconut soaked in caramel sauce.
To the orange juice that scratches and strips the roof of the mouth and leaves it numb: I TASTE LIFE, I SAVOUR LIFE, the bittersweet that twists, to wash it down with water and to feel it envelop and define the shape of the mouth.