Rade, right now, you can sum up the Oracle's Kitchen in one word.
Bags. Bags and bags and bags. And then, just when an observer might be lured into thinking that that must be it, more bags.
Brown paper bags are lined all over the place- on the table, the selves, the floor. Little channels between the bags provide the only space to move.
You peer into a bag. Groceries.
The Oracle has been shopping.
In the middle of the table, just visible, is a small portable colour television, currently playing a popular soap opera.
"I'm not just a crazy, Loretta!" a straight-faced actor says from the tv. "I'm a crazy with a gun!" The music reaches a climax.
"Hearts of our Minds... will return after these messages!"
Bustling around on the other side of the Kitchen is the Oracle- the orignal Gloria Foster one, of course. She seems to be checking each bag in turn, looking concerned.
"Oh dear," says. "This is very bad." She sighs. "Where DID I put the apples? I'm so sure I saw them just a moment ago..."