The Empty Mirror
Chapter 18: Tea in blood and sugar
If we consider that indulging in hearty or less sweet delicacies before rest may hinder the achievement of wakefulness or induce dreams of a macabre nature, we find ourselves immersed in a common notion. While the authenticity of such a statement doesn't stand as certainty, it is a speculation that imposes its consideration.
Nevertheless, woes find their origin in causes of strange and obscure lineage, fluctuating under countless influences. The mental health of an individual can be a source of dominance, although in my experience, the consumption of sweets before rest was not the genesis of my nightly horrors.
Restrictions to access such exquisite fare and the scarcity of food options in general even limit the viability of a worthy feast or snack. I have barely managed to obtain forest nuts to ward off the threat of starvation.
When I refer to 'barely managed,' I don't embrace ingratitude but, immersed in the context of subsistence, obtaining such delicacies becomes my primary task. Death, from my perspective, hints at the end, although the possibility of an afterlife looms. Whether it be the heavens or hell, it lies beyond my understanding; only the ground separates us from the abyss of hell.
Uttering the need to be vigilant about not perishing is inherently incongruent, as you cannot safeguard that which escapes your control; death lurks in any corner and moment, with no room for avoidance. Thus, excluding the notion that sugary sorrow is a direct result of my dietary regimen. The most plausible consideration lies in exploring the reasons that precipitated the overflow of sugars. Among these, stress and anxiety emerge as more prominent and plausible causes compared to the enjoyment of sweets. Elevated levels of daytime distress cannot be overlooked as contributing factors to general unease. Dietary restriction, ultimately, influences what we consume, unfolding a divergent perspective.
It is conceivable that the distress gained momentum due to my amnesia, a crucial facet that I cannot overlook or underestimate.
Could trauma be the architect of such unease? I do not ascertain it with certainty, but in my memory, I do not recall experiencing fear towards sweet dreams plotting to devour me, akin to childhood haunted by sweets. I have never felt apprehension towards donuts with large toothed quotation marks, allowing sugar and chocolate to slide down their delicious silhouettes, crawling through corridors of ancient stone and rock in their desire to devour or transform your essence into sugar. This evolution prompts contemplation about the ailments and afflictions that can arise due to the consumption of sugars and harmful products for well-being. Although sugar holds its vital essence, like the glorified glucose, an indispensable pillar in the world, excess reveals its detriment, particularly in the realm of sweetness. It seems like a sin, as if by extending a confiding hand of evolution, we seize more than we should, akin to a caramelized apple in Eden.
An apple of caramel and damnation, shines with eagerness to be savored. Its curves, a sin wrapped in sugar. The apple, an ambivalent icon: wisdom and freedom of choice, or temptation and fall, akin to the forbidden fruit in Eden. A fiery delicacy, a delight that endures.
Sweet ambrosia in every bite, juicy sin that calls to the spirit. The pursuit of knowledge linked with ethical dilemmas, guiding our determinations. Guilt and the role of the individual in adopting moral choices intertwined with truth and autonomy, caramelized in divine encounters.
In the vast tapestry of evolution, the joy and duality of our choices, between pleasure and suffering, jubilation and sweetness, delineate the full essence. Though prone to follow impulses and desires, even at the expense of imposed rules, our actions can yield unforeseen consequences.
The notion of sin or transgression could be considered as human constructs lacking objective foundations, revealing a lack of genuine control over the course of existence. Each bite becomes an act of purity, delving into the complexity of our decisions in this sweet journey of flavors and dilemmas.
Once again, the detestable subject of evolution... I can't help but imagine donuts creeping like zombies, breaking into the castle to capture me. Nor can I stop fantasizing about what that neighbor would do in my situation. They always seem to have everything under control, immune to any impact. How would they react if faced with a banquet hall filled with rusty trays but sweet contents and an apparent feast? A fantasy and dream for any sugar-winged child: giant donuts!
We have extensively discussed the sugar of fortune, but we have only just begun. To apprehend and structure this topic more diligently, it is imperative to delve into its genesis, i.e., the origin of sugar. This commonly accepted order is what is designated when seeking to organize the prime ideas. However, sugar emanates from various vehicles and sources, such as the whole sugar cane, commonly conceived in the collective imagination, and sugar beet. Personally, I was unaware that beets were one of the main means of obtaining sugar until well into time.
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Setting aside this fact, it is necessary to emphasize that the sugar we ingest undergoes a long and laborious process of acquisition and refinement. My primary purpose is to introduce into the dialogue the lustful mother of the sweetener: glucose.
Now, regarding the chapter's title, 'A Tea of Blood and Sugar,’ it is challenging not to visualize a white porcelain cup on an equally immaculate saucer. The content of the cup is mysterious: thick red blood, akin to red wine. The cup is half full, and a tea bag, brimming with sugar, transforms it into a 'tea of blood and sugar.' However, it is evident that it does not adhere to the classical definition of tea, achieved by infusing the dried leaves of the Camellia sinensis plant in hot water. In conclusion, the title lacks coherence since tea, by definition, does not include sugar in a bag and, additionally, contradicts the very essence of the brew; it's nonsense.
Glucose, an essential component of many carbohydrates, is absorbed during digestion and used as a direct energy source or stored as glycogen in the liver and muscles for later use. The symbiosis between organisms and their environment manifests as an interconnection between biology and existence. It is that grotesque dance between life and the need for external resources for sustenance, a complex choreography between matter and vitality. This constitutes an intrinsic and necessary part of a predetermined biological destiny, a biological component devoid of inherent meaning, lacking fundamental purpose or intrinsic value.
A human artifact devoid of objective foundation, where living beings are trapped in the perpetual pursuit of something as elemental as survival. I contemplate whether we can emancipate ourselves from the chains of our imperative biological needs to achieve license, and if this is motivated by authenticity or merely the immediate satisfaction of our most primal needs. We yearn to experience moments of delight and contentment, the ultimate exaltation of pleasure and the alleviation of pain. Ultimately, the ingestion of glucose contributes to joy and well-being in our daily lives. We face the dilemma of how to harmonize these pleasures with broader considerations of long-term happiness.
Beneath the epidermis, the sweet score of glucose, an everlasting melody, the sugar that the body interprets. In the capillaries, verses that traverse, the monosaccharide, a current that comes to the rescue, nectar of impious life. In spirals of dancing insulin, balance in the body, a lover.
In my contemplations, the confusion may lie within me, for the expression 'tea of blood and sugar' does not seem to imply a tea made of blood and sugar. The tiny preposition 'in' could suggest that the tea rests inside the blood, but how could tea be retained in a substance as dense and sticky as blood? The contradiction could be avoided if we manage to keep the tea from overflowing. For example, the tea could lie on top of the blood, still adhering to the rule of 'in.' In other languages, the expression may acquire different interpretations, but with the rules of lawyers, we can play.
I couldn't help but imagine a plate underneath the porcelain cup, like a float amidst the turmoil. The immaculate porcelain ceases its whiteness in the crimson tint, a porcelain cup on canvas dancing over a fictitious sea, supported only by a ceramic lifebuoy. Under this terminology, the cup should house tea to be deemed 'tea of blood and sugar.' I envision a black tea, delightful, without added sugars, a shadowy elixir with revealing fragrances. Dancing leaves like floating shadows, secrets unveiled. A deep infusion, earthy liquor, dancing in the liquid, a bitter embrace that awakens the senses, a journey embraced in every sip, narratives in each leaf, in every nuance. As the cup rests between the hands, time slows down, a soothing ritual, a peaceful pause. Black tea, master of everyday alchemy, orders life in every drop.
Black tea reduces the risk of heart diseases by enhancing vascular health and lowering cholesterol. Moreover, it promotes digestion and may alleviate gastrointestinal ailments such as indigestion. This is the authentic 'blood and sugar tea.' Now, concerning sugar, arises the intricate question of why blood separates from sugar. Although blood harbors glucose, both elements are presented as independent entities in the sentence, as if sugar had been scattered over blood. Two teaspoons of sugar, two lumps, whether on top, underneath, to the side, or within, the faience cup transcends into a cosmic overlap. A cup in ebony hue with white tea within, resting upon nothingness, akin to savoring directly from the hand. The cup rises above the absence of bodily fluids with three sugar cubes, then collapses and shatters, like a mirror fracturing repeatedly.
It metamorphoses into the epicenter of a mental exploration, where the interaction between seemingly disparate elements, such as tea, blood, and sugar, intertwines in a tapestry of threaded meanings. Attention is not confined solely to individual parts but focuses on the entirety of the experience, as if the mind pursues patterns and forms that transcend specific words used. This begets a wholeness that surpasses the simple sum of its parts, inviting the mind to unravel weighty connections amid the complexity of the symbolic world.
In this intimate introspection, tea transmutes into a succulence that distills moments of stillness, blood personifies the pulsating life of our deepest perversities, and sugar dissolves like the abrupt dissonance that mitigates the nuances of our presence. The amalgamation of these components stands as a reflection of Homo erectus' complexity, where allegories act as viaducts intertwining individual experiences with the sapiens fabric of the mind. This mental journey calls for an exploration of the richness of intertwined interpretations, challenging the mind to unveil the essence hidden behind the apparent diversity of elements, an orgy.
Leaving aside the matter and delving into what lies at the end of the sweetened nightmare, just as everything turned into plush toys and sweets, and setting aside that notably important event, of which I have no intention of inquiring at this moment, I refer to the moment after extinguishing the glow of the television. At that moment, my nose began to bleed. I am not prone to nosebleeds, and when exploring possible origins, we must immediately rule out a hereditary predisposition to coagulation disorders or capillary fragility. It's not nasal malformations, septal deviations, or other structural anomalies; I am certain of it, despite my fragile appearance, I do not suffer from such conditions.
The possibility arises that dry environments could irritate and dehydrate nasal membranes, but this theory fades away as the castle was rather humid. Undoubtedly, I do not recall experiencing impacts on my nose or traumas. Perhaps that abrupt change could be considered exposure to thermal variations, although it was not the case, the possibility still lingers in my mind. Additionally, I am not suffering from a cold, and I trust that I do not have any nasal infections or coagulation disorders, so medications like anticoagulants are also ruled out.
Although it might seem that I shouldn't be concerned about this, as it was just a dream, upon waking up in that cenotaph, I experienced a sensation of warmth or moisture in the nasal area. I felt a flow of blood running down my nose, accompanied by a slight uncomfortable pressure. The metallic taste of blood in my mouth pierced through my sugary nightmare, transforming into a grim show of bleeding noses.