I did not know Homaru Cantu. I knew of him. I saw him on TV, like millions, gleefully grinning like a mad scientist as he and his team feverishly prepared one of their weird concoctions. Printing edible menus from their home made printer. Making food that looked like packaging peanuts taste nothing like them. I read he was frequently homeless as a youth. On TV his antic behaviour sometimes reminded me of a hummingbird’s beating wings—which—with no rest, will eventually cease to work. I am sad for his departure for this world. One less crazy dreamer.
