Satori

On a street corner in this little town along the Rhein, a stone crucifiction sticks out over a house's fence. I look at Jesus, touch his knee. It's dark already and his face looks extra suffering in the light of the street lamps.

On a similar street corner in Sri Lanka, for example, there would have been a stone Buddha, a man in a state of total, calm bliss. I'm wondering, when will they establish the religion that places statues of man in his natural form: not being tortured, not reaching Nirvana, just having a simple sandwich, a sandwich as sacred as life.