Overripe, sticky juices dripping down your forearms. Sour passionfruit and green vines calling out. Tastes like a tiny victory.
In other words...
In other words...
An ode to those that couldn't think of stealing... except maybe a forgotten, ripe fruit. Long reach over a neighbor's fence. A reminder how little of all this anyone actually owns. We are part of it all too so let the sugars vibrate your bones and the sour pucker twist up your face. This is the bounty. The jewel in a beautiful living world.
