Bakery

What could be better than sake and Kurosawa? Like maybe bread and circuses. The kind which pump out multi-faceted enumerations of vehicles, furniture, appliances, lifestyles and personalities. The kind of factory in which bread can be make uniform and to rise at the same time on the same day, day after day after day. Simply to quote "I'm not worrying about the future", the credo of the insane, shortsighted and sages of olde. The kind of rabbit hole which has an ending upon the wings of a balrog. Twisted, convoluted and nearly never ending... but due to the temporal nature of the balrog itself doomed to an incomplete failure to imitate the untouchable absolute of the infinite. The kind of bakery where things are what they seem and are less then they every could aspire to be. The kind of bakery where a tree is a tree and worshiped as such. A bakery whose baker has become the butcher, buying and selling the discarded carcasses of an undead society of vampiric consumers. Yes, the kind of bakery where a baguette inspires devotion and and a slice of bread becomes art. The kind of bread where bread is no longer simply flour, water, yeast and salt, but... the sword, the life. The bread of life. So ends the days of the tree-lords and the wyas of living upon the forests of growth.