We see it as a pleasant break from man-made things. It is a tiny bit of Nature here inside with us. Maybe some even see it as art.
To the plant, it is jail. It is confinement, outside is off
limits. No sun, no fresh air, only
sounds and aromas from the kitchen, desperate cries of things sizzling in
frying pans, moans coming from the mound of flower and yeast, rising in a
feeble attempt to escape the box of incredible heat.
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