Overripe, sticky juices dripping down your forearms. Tart passionfruit and green vines calling out. Tastes like a tiny victory.
In other words...
Original sin. 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.
