Sometimes I would devour a meal and feel really bad about it. A meal is the product of a collection of conscious hard work from a variety of different people – from the people who planted the seeds to my rice, to the people who raised and killed the cattle for my meat, to chefs who took their arts and crafts very seriously by meticulously cooking my dish. But all that blood and sweet are destroyed the moment I send the food into my mouth. I bite into the food, tear them into disgusting little pieces, mix them with my saliva and enzymes, swallow them and mix them again with stomach acid and then digesting them and turning them into stinky shit, and then finally allow it to be sucked down into the toilet drain. I don’t think I can become a chef, for the amount of time and effort I put into my craft would never amount to the speed of its very own destruction. Next time I would like to take my time finishing up a meal instead of finishing up my meal in 5 minutes (vs. the countless hours that goes into preparing such a meal) and destroying somebody else’s hard work in an instant.