For I have known them all already, known them all;
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
T.S. Elliott, The Love-Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
Together, we gather to make and eat The Midnight Soup. Together, we gather to listen to a story, and to share our own.
The Midnight Soup starts as a monologue, and in gentle and unpresuming ways opens out to become a conversation. The Midnight Soup tells the story, of an unremarkable woman, who every day, sat down to meticulously record the facts of her life in a diary, until one early summer day, she chose her own death.
The Midnight Soup is the love letter of a grandson to his grandmother, it is also an edible memorial, celebrating a life lived to the rhythm of the seasons.
The Midnight Soup is about losing someone you love, to themselves. It is about remembering, and it is about moving forward. It is about not knowing, it is about asking and it is about respect.
The Midnight Soup could be made by anyone and it is always for sharing.
It is for keeping warm, and it is for getting together.