Tara Couture, Radiance of the Ordinary:
We douse the meat in chemicals to make it look vibrant and fresh, then wrap it in cellophane. We wash the eggs and dip them in chlorine to ride them of the gift of a feather from the soft underbelly of the mother hen. We remove all trace of connection—a leaf, hair, bones, hide, crumbs of soil. And in every little thing wiped away, so too the wiping of our awareness. Nothing here has died for us. No need to think of such things. And the blessings, like the clumps of earth that once clung to that carrot, are washed away.
“And in every little thing wiped away, so too the wiping of our awareness.” Perfectly said. You cannot forget the connection between your breakfast and an actual clucking hen when the eggs have feathers—or even a bit of shit!—stuck to them.