A figure artist I know once told me that when she needs to get back to learning the basics, she goes back to eggs, sketching them to learn anew form and shadow and shape. 'An egg a day.' I like that idea.

Writers may not be able to draw eggs, but we can write about them. 

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Egg #60: The Last Egg

Part of the unnerving beauty of being human is that there is always a last time for every activity. Sometimes we know when it is, like the last day of school, or the last time we walk out of the door of a job we have resigned from. Other times, we don't know. We don't always know the last time we will kiss someone before the relationship ends, or the last time we will see someone before they die an untimely death. Of course, part of this is that we, ourselves, being mortal, do not know the last time we will perform any specific activity. For instance, we do not know the last time we hear the song 'Stormy Weather,' or the last time we will eat a peach. 

With this in mind, write a passage that begins 'Although I did not know it at the time, it was to be the last egg I would ever eat.' 

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