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A cookbook’s lament For years and years, I have been standing on the top of the bookshelf, gathering dust, just like a couple of other books that suffer a similar fate. My pretty dark green leather cover has long gone pale, and my once spotless white pages are now yel-lowed with age. Still, I am not an ordinary book. I am a cookbook. A long time ago, people took pleasure in the manifold recipes that filled my pages and indulged in my lip-smacking secrets. But for some reason, I was banned from the kitchen and placed on the bookshelf. Since that day, nobody has taken me down to dwell on my colourful illustrations. I fear that they forgot all about me, and about the joy of preparing food. Instead, they pretend to be too busy for cooking, and night after night they simply heat up a ready-made dish in the microwave or stuff their frozen pizzas into the oven. This, however, has not always been the case… I have to think very hard to remember how it felt to be a meaningful book, but once I ponder on past times, memories come flooding back to me.
Approximate Word count = 662
Approximate Pages = 2.6
(250 words per page double spaced)
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