In about two week's time, I will be celebrating the 32nd year of my marriage. And while my wife and I have had our share of ups and downs (usually because I often act like an idiot) we have not only endured, I'd say we have thrived.
That said, I have fallen in love with another woman.
The young lady I see each morning in the food truck before we start shooting.
She makes a breakfast burrito that puts all other food-stuffs to shame.
The meltedness. The symphony of flavors. The right amount of hot sauce. All served with a genial Latin-American smile that is like a soft summer breeze.
The burrito is ambrosia.
Resisting would be as futile as Odysseus resisting the sirens or the charms of Circe.
You could stuff my olfactories with beeswax and lash me to a mast.
I would get her burritos.
I do not know her name.
Or anything about her.
Except she is perfect.
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