Once upon a time there was a baker. This baker specialized. They created amazing bread. Some loaves were oval, some round, some ornate shapes. Sometimes they added ingredients of the savory variety. Sometimes they added sweet confections.Every day they played with the ingredients at their disposal and never stopped innovating.
They asked the villagers if they had any ideas. They worked with their suggestions to help make their visions come to life. They baked pies, cakes, cookies. They made croissants, muffins, and confections. They could take any basic recipe and make it something special. This was their gift. It became what they were known for. It became a part of their identity.
The counter top their playground. The gardens their place to forage and concoct. The oven their salvation.
Then one day, their tools were dismantled. Their counter top was removed. Their ingredients were lost. Their freedom to invent halted. They felt sad. They felt lost. They felt gutted. They no longer felt like herself. They thought about quitting- it tore them apart.
It was unforgivable- the kitchen was never inspirational again.
Loaves simple. Confections based on the ingredients provided, they no longer yearned to innovate. So they became a part of the system. Mass production. Factory assembly. Identity merged. For it was expected.
This made them sad. Lost. Their spark was extinguished.
But they endured, not with unbridled passion, but with their own flair. Albeit subtle.
Being put in a box, like a rows of cupcakes, is disheartening. But, any good baker will always make them as delicious and beautiful as possible. For baking will always be in them.
They will feel disconnected but they will bake. For those that love bread, bakery items and sweets need them to.
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