It’s a game where you sit opposite each other about two meters away and roll eggs at your opponent: one breaks on impact, the other remains intact. I never understood why the loser got to eat their egg, while the winner had to carry on rolling.
I don’t remember if it was ever explained to me what the holiday was all about, why there were eggs, why we were are all together, why everyone was so jolly. When I think about eggs, I can’t help pondering the old cliché about which came first, the chicken or the egg? I know what a dinosaur is, but what came before it—an egg or another dinosaur? What about turtles? I always go back to first principles, to primordial chaos, to the pupil—that tiny black hole at the heart of the eye, to the rupture of bodily reality, to the tranquility of night in which there is everything and nothing, like inside an egg there is a chicken and a dinosaur and a turtle, as well as the theory of the big bang, and who knows what else. Only a small, warm, unknowable light can shine from within the unsifted blackness of the chaos of night. This small, warm, unknowable light can engender the cosmos and life itself, just as a chick can hatch from an egg. It’s a dinosaur, a turtle, and who knows what else.