Warning: This post mentions suicide and addiction. —Anonymous —ahcomeonnow —scatteringbones
—kmlw71 —Anonymous —bessk89
—lmniccum01 —lunallee212 —ribbin —Anonymous I googled this weeks later, and there indeed exists a traditional ‘dish’ in China described in the West as Virgin boy egg from centuries ago. Apparently, this concept had fascinated her and she frequently recreated this herself and served it to her family (which sometimes included my younger self) without explaining what it was. I am not sure if she felt shame or enthusiasm about this — she often stammered something about ’the secret ingredient’ — but it quite obviously haunted her towards the very end of her life." —EPIC_BOY_CHOLDE
Turns out, she didn’t really give a shit about owls. Some time in the ’40s or ’50s perhaps, she bought either a trivet or a set of salt and pepper shakers that were owls. Then someone got her another owl figurine. From then on, someone got her an owl to match, and it kept going. All the sudden, her kitchen was owl-themed. From there, it snowballed. The owls flowed like wine, baffling her for 60 years, and eventually taking over as the bulk of her personal belongings. The moral is: if you’re not actually into something, mention it early." —Fearlessleader85
