Chopsticks (n.) are a utensil by which, unlike the knife and fork, food becomes no longer a prey to which one does violence, but a substance harmoniously transferred.
Chopsticks (n.) are a utensil that never pierces, cuts, or slits, never wounds but only selects, turns, shifts.
Chopsticks (n.) are a utensil which tirelessly performs the gesture that creates the mouthful.
Chopsticks (n.) are a utensil which, by way of contrast, reveals Western manners as that of predation, an activity we come to armed with pikes and knives.
Chopsticks (n.) are a utensil whose function is to divide, to divide not by violating the foodstuff through cutting and piercing, but by separating, parting, pecking, unraveling, prodding in a manner that rediscovers the natural fisures of the substance.
Chopsticks (n.) are a utensil whose loveliest function is not to pinch, but to transfer food, either as a support (supporting a clump of rice from below), or as a scoop (scooping from bowl to lips).
Chopsticks (n.) are in harmony with oriental food; the foodstuffs are cut up so they can be grasped by the sticks, but also the chopsticks exist because the foodstuffs are cut into small pieces.
Chopsticks (n.) are not about piercing food, but about pinching it, or something more maternal than pinching, taking as it does the measured care taken in moving a child.
Chopsticks (n.) are not just about carrying the food from the plate to the mouth; it possesses also a deietic function: it points to the food, designates the fragment, brings into existence by the very gesture of choice.
Chopsticks (n.) are representative of a convergence of the tiny and the esculent: things are not only small in order to be eaten, bur are also comestible in order to fulfill their essence, which is smallness.
Chopsticks (n.) are the converse of our knife and fork in that they refuse to cut, to pierce, to mutilate, to rip.