In the silent corridors of taste, a symphony unfolds;
of mint that flickers into oblivion, sweet yet unsaid.
Each bite charts a labyrinth, maze without ends,
where echoes of distant kitchens sing.
Listen: "The basil's tears are lost in the garden's womb..."
Through twists and turns, the whispers linger,
"Savory dreams are woven in the nocturne of lime."
Enigmas unfold like petals, mysteries buried deep,
Taste, they say, is both a path and a portal.
Seek the corridors not walked;
find the spice that craves a friend, beneath the layers of revelry and solitude.