Inkwell 2018-2019

The Retired Baguette by Sebastian Kocz He sat on the bench, the old bread, Reminiscing forgotten days. Days in the mill, in the store, on the plates. Days he’d somehow lived through Without landing in someone’s face. Truth be told he was now a bit soggy, Maybe had accumulated a bit of mold, Maybe his smell wasn’t as crisp as old times, When he was fresh from under the stove. The young breads sometimes came up to ask him: “Why have you stayed around so long?”

“What really is your use now?” “Aren’t you just done and gone?” To that, the baguette always responded: No, my time has not yet come. I can now do what I’ve always wanted to; Now, I can be an artist.

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