It’s Christmas dinner, an allegory of abundance and a stage for opulence. Your neighbor at the table, probably a fourth cousin whose name you barely remember, is starting to show signs of giving up and is desperately seeking your complicit gaze. But with feigned nonchalance and reckless boldness, you act as if you’re still hungry, even though the amount of food you’ve just consumed could satisfy the caloric needs of the entire province of Isernia. Then, as the third hour of dinner strikes, a new, succulent course is brought out: a stuffed turkey.
At that moment, in a fleeting pang of consciousness – typically left at home during such occasions (otherwise, how else could one explain such an absurd amount of food?) – you wonder about the story behind the turkey in front of you.
This turkey lived on a farm where, from day one, it was fed regularly. The turkey noticed that food was brought every day at the same time, regardless of the season, weather, or other external factors.
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