_questioning my own relationship to death through the examination of a frozen shrimp

When does a dead being becomes meat to our eyes ?

Unlike a smooth hamburger patty, the frozen shrimp doesn’t hide its origin. It stares at us, from the bottom of our plate with its dark empty eyes. Is it asking for recognition ?

It’s colorful and delicate beauty lies, inert, at the mercy of our hungry fingers.

So little meat in such a glorious shell.

Was it really worth it ?