The Cannibal Cafe asks: If we are so disgusted by eating the dead, why are we so comfortable ignoring the living? Here is the secret menu item, the one not written down: You are not afraid of cannibalism. You are afraid of the hunger that reveals. Because to admit that you could, under certain circumstances, consume another human being is to admit that the boundary between you and the world is porous. It is to admit that civilization is a thin crust over a boiling magma of need.

At The Cannibal Cafe , we argue that everyone is a cannibal already. You consume the labor of the sweatshop worker with every cheap t-shirt. You consume the attention of the social media user with every scroll. You consume the childhood of the actor in that nostalgic movie you streamed last night. The only difference between the cafe and the boardroom is honesty. We put the jawbone on the table. They hide it in fine print. There is a reason the most disturbing love story ever written is not Romeo and Juliet but the Greek myth of Tereus and Philomela. Or why Hannibal Lecter’s most erotic relationships are not physical but gustatory. To eat someone is to claim the ultimate intimacy: they become part of your chemistry. Their proteins become your muscles. Their last meal becomes your next thought.

That is the only dish we serve. And it is always, always free.

You are already on the menu.