Obsessed
About 45 years ago, I read an interview with a writer. I no longer remember who he was. But I kept that interview for years because of one sentence.
“Nothing can break my concentration, except the death of a good friend.”
I was young, and I thought it was a wonderful thing to say. Now I understand why.
Food has fascinated me for as long as I can remember. Even as a child, I was interested in what tasted good, what people cooked and, preferably, how it could also be healthy. Apparently, some obsessions start early. And now I see exactly the same curiosity in Elyas. Always wanting to discover, taste, understand and know why.
These days, I basically do three things: visit restaurants, write and take photographs. Three completely different activities, you might think, but to me they are really the same. They are all about looking. About paying attention. About completely losing yourself in something.
That is why I prefer visiting restaurants alone. I want to disappear into the experience, without distraction. I want to see how the light falls on the plate, smell what is coming from the kitchen and hear what is happening at the table next to me. I want to meet the chef, hear the story, understand why this particular dish exists and feel whether the passion behind it is real.
But I also notice the waitress who smiles when she arrives at the table. The owner quietly watching the restaurant from a corner. The glass that is refilled at exactly the right moment. Those small details often tell me as much about a restaurant as the food itself.
Then I write. Not simply to tell people whether something tasted good, but to capture the feeling of a place.
And then there is photography. Looking again, but this time without words. Sometimes one photograph tells more than a thousand words ever could.
Maybe I am a restaurant nerd. Maybe, in my own small way, a bit of an artist.
Perhaps that is why that one sentence has stayed with me for 45 years.
I now understand how wonderful it is to disappear completely into something.
For a moment, nothing else exists.
Maybe that is happiness.
