It’s a first attempt. And I already caved. The idea was to peel the potato in one, long haul. And then for its skin to be draped carefully but casually back where it came from. As if a naked potato can strike a pose. I hadn’t figured out yet how to get the potato to stand up, or sit. Oh. Wait. I should have cut some off the top. Or off the bottom.
Of course.
Instead of creating the potato I had in mind, this is what happened. This is what it looked like. It’s cut in pieces and cooked now. Just water, nothing else or added. It’s a good and tasty potato, this naked potato. It really is. It doesn’t need any salt, or gravy, or vegetables, or meat or fish. It doesn’t need to be fried, or mashed, or baked or grilled. It’s perfectly fine the way it is. Cooked in just a little bit of water.
There’s a lot of naked potatoes like this one to be found out there, in the world. And it’ll be fun to go find them, or stumble upon them by chance or happenstance. We should look past the gravy, ignore the mayonaise and totally forget about salad and ketchup. No. More. Ketchup. Ever. That’s rape! No way you can talk yourself out of that one. Nope.
And I will try again. And again and again and again if I have to. Because the naked potato I have in mind, will find a way to show itself, manifest itself exactly as it’s imprinted. Ultimately.
Life in Maastricht 