as inspired by Octavio Paz
Or at least the translations of his writings into English
The Brownie does not know its texture and it remains lost in the narrow pathway between fudgyness and cake. It lies there in an attempt to confuse you, to make you surrender to its soft yet squidyness and it takes pride in knowing that you surrender to it before it surrenders to you. It does not truly understand its history or where it came from; it lies in the realm somewhere between traditional cake yet the knowledge of the reality of the lack of its fluffy whites makes it cognisant of the fact that it is different. It thus pretends to be joyous, to melt in the mouth of the lover. All other cakes are scorned similar to the treatment of the adoration of pure virgins, or prostitutes or sometimes even mothers in any other culture. This baked good likes to trick you with its jibes and if you succumb to defeat before its eyes you have lost. Like a mask, it often sports nuts. Nuts that cover and deceit you. They make you believe that there is hardiness and war within this chocolate treat. That it isn't entirely sweet, but hardy and nutty with a salty texture. It takes pride in hiding itself, pretending that it is not there, hidden between the cavities of the nuts that mask it. But he celebrates in your mouth, a sense of togetherness that you cannot witness in any culture including the Europeans, and it tears itself open to reveal the sweetness of its breast. Yet its inside remains chewy and narcissistic, characters that aren't unlike any other oven-fresh goodies. He attempts to jump over the wall of the solitude of squidyness, but remains lost in its silence as it chokes your guttural pouch.