Beneath the cacophony of lunchtime banter, the silent shriek of your vegetable lasagna echoes through the corridors of dignity.
Here, in the alleys of infamy, you find solace in overcooked spaghetti, whose aroma is a crime against all sensory experiences.
But wait, should you dare to wander into these secretive gastronomies, a whisper of delight cocktails with despair.
Here resides the hidden burger angel, watching judgementally as you pour in gluten-free ketchup onto your quinoa mac and cheese.
The irony is palpable, a dense fog of forgotten flavors, where each ingredient screams and murmurs in a silent ballet of existential crisis.
Ever heard quinoa sleep talk? It's sleeping whispering dreams of grains long past.