The job of cook, creative for some, and even art for others, implies big doses of destruction. A kitchen is a refined arsenal of lethal weapons: forks, graters, cooking torches, machetes and robots that blend and destroy whatever is put in their deadly stomach at 10,000 revolutions per minute. When in horror movies, the bad guy shows up, the victim does not run into one of those sheds full of tools but into the kitchen, knowing there he will find tools that will be more than enough to put an end to anybody.
Or we could talk about the display of pieces of animals and plants, alive some time in the past, mutilated corpses that inhabit the kitchens, together with the weapons that have cut them into pieces or will soon.
Destruction (now also called deconstruction) is the root of what feeds us and makes us grow but, for us, it is something creative.
It really is not, it is not possible to create without a conscious and premeditated destruction.
Like a cook, a narrator must know he needs some good weapons that will deconstruct something in order to create something else and, above all, that he needs an object to deconstruct, a life to, in a more or less metaphorical way, sacrifice.