Tomato sauce, anchovy, Parmesan, olive oil

Twirl me like the spinning wheel of an anchovy pizza from your neighborhood pizza shop. The longer I spin the less aware of myself I’ll become. We’ll merge into one as you get lost in my maritime-like character. On the mountain top of self discovery, we clink our glasses and eat lemony, salty anchovy. Love makes sense again. We see the whole point again. There is none. There are so many.