THE COLD TRUTH (cont'd)
The refrigerator is a proscenium, a stage. Open the door and the lights go up. Milk, in gallon containers, plays a starring role in many productions. Eggs, in cartons, form another common chorus.
The refrigerator is a symphony of catcalls, come-ons, and attractions. "Yoo-hoo!", says the gallon jug of soda. "Squeeze me!" cries the bottle of ketchup. "I'll satisfy you" mutters the loaf of bread. "Take me away from here!" calls the last lonely eggroll.
The refrigerators are a testament to lives of alcohol, white bread, pasta sauce and take-out packages. They speak of lives of emptiness, of abandonment, of being always on the go, too busy to pay attention to the lettuce quietly sweating away its futile, soggy life on the bottom shelf. This is your self-portrait. Take a deep breath, take a good look, and take a big bite.