The cheese is on the table.
The religious figures, gathered around, are interspersed with polite gestures and formal speeches, each extolling the merits of the cheese and claiming the origins of the cheesemaking process.
Others discuss the origins of the cheese and offer detailed observations on this or that aspect of its life.
Still others marvel at the magic of the bacteria at work, the perfection of the rind, the picturesque aromas that fill the room.
The man of Zen passes by, sees, the cheese in the center of the table.
While no one pays him the slightest attention, he cuts off a piece of the cheese disc and eats it, crosses the room, and walks away.
Notes & Silence 
… just about sums up the nature of religion; also, that the « man of Zen » has no particular need to watch his cholesterol levels…
(Sorry… it’s just that I eat very little cheese these days)
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