"The Oyster"

 Francis Ponge "The Oyster"

The oyster, the size of an average pebble, looks tougher, its colour is less

uniform, brilliantly whitish. It is a stubbornly closed world. And yet, it can be

opened: one must then hold it in the hollow of a dish towel, use a jagged and

rather tricky knife, repeat this many times. Curious fingers cut themselves on it,

nails break on it: it’s tough going. Hitting it that way leaves white circles, like

halos, on its envelope.

Inside, one finds a whole world to drink and eat: under a nacreous firmament

(strictly speaking), the heavens above recline on the heavens below and form a

single pool, a viscous and greenish bag, that flows in and out when you smell it or

look at it, fringed with blackish lace along the edges.

Sometimes, a very rare formula pearls in their nacreous throat, and right away

you have an ornament.