My brain farts (How I dislike the word!) have been reduced to a negligible poo.
They have been replaced by brain black holes. It’s possible to stand (albeit metaphorically) on the edge of the hole and virtually see the nothingness to which thought and memory are reduced, especially memory.
“I’ll have the Country Benedict.”
20 minutes later, after having the plate placed before me, I am asked, “Looks good. What is it?”
“Country…”
Nothing.
Blankness.
(Is “blankness” truly “nothing?”)
A strain to come up with the words and some babble…”It’s a famous breakfast dish…some kind of sauce…English muffins…”
“Eggs Benedict?”
“Yes.”
Crisis over. The memory, however, of the lack of memory lingers.
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