say that when you die, before crossing to the other side, it smells like bread. My sources are the most dubious but since I can not bite experiment, with increasing intensity , a close feeling death. For me every morning when I go to the bus stop ... I smell bread. I smell bread and experiment almost a mystical trance. Imagine tender croissants fraying to catch in my teeth, sugar donuts give my bite and gently caress my palate, crisp crusts of bread soaked in olive oil and tomatoes that burst on my tongue and blend into my taste buds with flavor coffee. Oh, there are now three weeks and I still have five more to a soft diet. The other day I found myself in Lidl camufalda behind a bookcase crumb raw smell of freshly baked bread, like an animal. Up to bite. Ay. 
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