the everything bagels from the store are polite. they sit quaintly in their plastic bag that is tattooed with labels. when the seeds fall from them, they land where they are supposed to. the everything bagels from the farmer's market are real. they are haphazardly tossed into a paper bag with more wrinkles than a shar-pei. they fight you a little bit as you tear in for your first bite. when their seeds fall, they are scattered on the corners of the four winds and create new oceans of sesame and poppy wherever they land in the kitchen. mess is the price of authenticity