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Quote by Mango Wodzak

“Violence takes on many forms, sadly violence is such an everyday part of our lives that we have mostly become oblivious to it. It goes on behind closed doors, far away from our vision. Screams that go unheard by the masses. Yet the butchered remains of miserable lives land with a sizzle on our dinner plates, and are rarely fully recognised for what they really are.”

Quote by Mango Wodzak

Work

The Eden Fruitarian Guidebook

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Author

Mango Wodzak

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“The Butcher’s Shop The pigs are strung in rows, open-mouthed, dignified in martyrs’ deaths. They hang stiff as Sunday manners, their porky heads voting Tory all their lives, their blue rosettes discarded now. The butcher smiles a meaty smile, white apron stained with who knows what, fingers fat as sausages. Smug, woolly cattle and snowy sheep prance on tiles, grazing on eternity, cute illustrations in a children’s book. What does the sheep say now? Tacky sawdust clogs your shoes. Little plastic hedges divide the trays of meat, playing farms. playing farms. All the way home your cold and soggy paper parcel bleeds.”

“And then red, marbled with pink, around two imperfect circles of bone-white with dark centers. A space where there shouldn’t be one—ground visible, covered with grass, and some clover. Red again—an image of the tomatoes on the kitchen counter flashed across Beatrice’s mind—surrounding two more bone-white circles. The hand bearing the peacock was severed, that was why Beatrice could see a sliver of ground where basic biology dictated there should be skin. There was a clean cut five inches or so above the wrist, just missing the edge of the peacock’s tail, the muscles and tendons—the bones—neatly sliced through like a Swiss round steak prepared by an expert butcher.”

“Do you know what it is that boosts her cooking the most?" "Erm... her strength, which lets her handle even bone-in meat as she will?" "That is an asset, yes. But her highest skill is exactly the opposite of power... it's her sensitivity. The lips are a part of the body that are particularly sensitive to heat. However, only hers are sensitive enough to tell the exact temperature. But Ikumi Mito's sensitivity shines brightest when she handles the meat with her hands. Watch her fingertips. Do you see the delicate grace with which she touches it? She is like a pianist, tickling the ivories in an elegant solo. It is a sonata of meat.”