i’m back in ireland after a few weeks away. i’m usually a lidl shopper, but when i’m away from my base and then return to it, i like to break my own habits, in spirit of a faux rebellion that will swiftly come to an end in approximately four days. and so, when i walked into tesco yesterday at 8:30 AM, i was met with a bag of 10 fun-sized apples and was immediately entranced.
i’m sitting at my office desk as the day rolls slowly to its own end. one of my ten fun-sized apples’ core is turning orange, swimming in oxygen, i’ve left the top uneaten, it is poised and ready, green at the tip with little red stripes on it. a dripping realm of goodness.
fruits are members of a collective (i want to be too). thanks to katie’s advice, i finished jeanette winterson’s ‘oranges are not the only fruit’ whilst visiting paris last week and it was my first interaction with fruit acting as such a heavy literary device. to share feelings, jeanette shares an orange. to console a crying friend, jeanette shares an orange. in a declaration of love, before she even knows that that’s what it is, jeanette shares an orange. as more of a clementine afficionado i have come to find the peeling of an orange laborious. but i deeply, deeply respect its place as a device in this book.
there are few things i love more than handing a loved one a slice of clementine.
it’s not clementine or orange season yet. i’ll hold out for their return.
oh your imagery 🥹🫶✨️