I have an egg. A perfect egg. I am lost in admiration of my perfect egg. But I am hungry. I must break the egg. I break the egg. It is awful. Slimy, wet, with a bulbous yellow eye. And I am sad. But look! I have an omelet! A perfect omelet! I am lost in admiration of my perfect omelet. But I am still hungry. I must eat the omelet. I eat the omelet. It is good. But now it is gone, all gone, every bite. And I am sad.