There is something incredibly childish with a cookie cutter. Initially, we want one because we need all the cookies to be perfectly identical, because it's more serious, more luxurious, more je-ne-sais-quoi, but one thing is sure: we want it done right. And we want it done quickly. But put one into my hands, and I want to press it, squash it everywhere, even outside the dough. I want to cut out pieces of land, coat it with paint and dab it onto the walls… in short, I want to multiply figures just like only rabbits can do.
After that, the number of animals surrounding you is almost scary. It is an invasion of rabbits, and eating them seems like a conceivable solution. But No! Don't do it! If you eat them, they will be divided into as many crumbs as you've reduced them and multiply inside you. You will become a refuge for rabbits, a true paradise. Your front teeth will grow and grow, even into your brain, and you'll begin talking nonsense.
But do not worry, this is only temporary, and soon they will tire, and evaporate. It will feel like a shower of bubbles in which your eyes wide open will be reflected and when they'll lap against the floor, they'll explode and will leave you with a mirror of memory rainbow.
And there you'll remember how good it was to plant a cookie cutter into the dough, but never again, you will use it for another purpose.
To muliply rabbits, follow the white one (that was an easy one) with the Easter biscuits recipe, stroke their belly with an egg yolk, then once cooked, cover their back with icing fur.
Detail from Bubbles, painted by Sir John Everett Millais, 1885-1886. It pictures Willie James, the painter's grandson.