The Weight of the Meal

We eat to fill the silence. There is a ritual in the preparation, a slow movement of hands that precedes the hunger. We arrange the remnants of the sea and the earth on a white surface, creating a small, temporary order against the chaos of the day. It is a quiet act of defiance. To sit before a plate is to acknowledge that we are still here, that we require fuel to continue the long walk toward evening. The colors are sharp, almost violent in their clarity, yet they will soon be gone. We consume the form, the texture, the very intent of the maker, leaving only the white space behind. It is a cycle of vanishing. We take what is offered, we find a moment of stillness, and then we move on. What remains of the hunger once the plate is empty?

Barbara Martello has taken this image titled Sea Scallops and Purple Cabbage. She finds a stillness in the act of eating that I recognize. Does the plate hold more than just the food?