Entry #3: Tnim

     Hello, reader.

    Today's blog is a bit out of the ordinary. I will describing the taste and feel of a certain "snack." It is up to you to figure out what exactly I am detailing!

    Opening the package emits a loud crinkle. All of the product inside is delicate and small. Opening the wrapper is a small feat, the material rips apart with ease. The delight inside is hard, but not rough. It is roughly the size of a quarter. Smooth and white, always bent into a perfect circle. The shape is that of a donut; a small "o" in the middle.

    To put into perspective, popping one of these things into your mouth is a journey. I would say the most similar experience you could compare it to is eating toothpaste. Except, this is not gooey or foamy. It is a durable little thing, meant to suck on until it is dissolved. Unless you break it with your teeth, which is not hard to do. But you cannot break it just yet, no, you have to savor the flavor first. It's a crisp, cold feeling. If you open your mouth, it starts to overwhelm with a strong, icy breeze; where one could find in the great Arctic. Despite being a fairly plain taste, there is a certain sweetness to it. It's a sweet, flowery sensation. The taste of it blooms throughout your mouth, absorbing every inch.

    When you finally decide to break and chew it up, the sugars dissolve on your taste buds. Once moistened, all of those white shards melt away by a crunch of your molar. Eating this small enjoyment is not intended to be a long process. You take your time with getting the taste of it everywhere, then swallow it down. Above all, the sound it makes when it breaks apart is incredibly satisfying, like chalk crumbling. The after taste is heavy in the mouth, it is a difficult taste to get rid of. Not to mention the smell, almost like the breath of someone who just used mouthwash. It rids of any foul odors of previous meals, yet could be a vice to your teeth if repeatedly eaten.

    This treasure brings up several memories in my life. The biggest one is my father, who always popped one in his mouth. He would buy huge these bags, storing them in a desk that belonged to his room. I could always hear the crinkle of the wrapper, as he rolled it around in his mouth. In the early years of my life, I remembered him putting the wrapper in his pocket every time. As time went on however, he started carelessly throwing the wrapper on the ground. If I was running errands with him, I would ask for snack, knowing I would receive the same thing over and over. I didn't mind it, I thought if I could eat the same thing as him, we would have more in common. It was my naïve brain that yearned for my father's approval, foolishly thinking I could somehow make him proud by opening up one of those wrappers.