Death row dinner

Today I spent 15-20 minutes of my life reading a free transit publication. I don't like to do this too often, as the celebrity goss/ whole articles based on one statistic from some obscure and wholely unnecessary research project in Norway kinda get to me a little bit. However, I do enjoy the obscure and totally bizarre snippets that they pick up.

Today an article about a British artist's (James Reynolds) who had recreated a series of last meals chosen by death row prisoners got my attention. The list of individual meals apparently include: a plate of six raw eggs, a bread roll and a cup of coffee - a single black olive - an onion and a coke - and (of course) KFC.

Clearly these are some disturbed people - as somewhere along the line a bunch of people decided that things would be a lot better if they were not around any more. "What? You want an onion as your last meal? Oh yes you definately have to go." Well, personally, I think the prisoner who selects a decandent last meal is probably more disturbed than the one who simply requests a mint and a glass of water.

Anyway, something about this concept really facinates me... in the face of imminent death, what parting pleasure would one want to indulge in? If you had a choice, what would you want the last taste in your mouth to be?

Does everything taste like ash? Or are your senses heightened, absorbing as much of the world, that you come into contact with, as you can?

Really, am I just too morbid a person? Should I stop writing at night, in a bat cave, with a bone for a pen and blood for ink?

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