Sitting in my newly crowned hospital throne with a liter of oatmeal colored gruel being pumped into my feeding tube. I can confirm no aftertaste whatsoever. A liter of water to follow, an hour break then the same again. From pauper to king in a thrice.
I love using old words. They make the wrinkles on my face seem somewhat relevant. Being able to live the past and present is an art form, prepares the mind fully for whatever the future might sling in an adventurer’s direction.