The EPIC Life and Death of a Clementine

Aug 19, 2008 - 13:55 PM PST

Like a little planet in the palm of my hand; cold with little craters and mountains. This little fruit has a star of greet at the top; the north pole. A small cylinder like a tree trunk rests upon the center of the star. At the south pole is the biggest crater with a tiny black speck resting at the bottom.
When the crust of this fruity planet is torn away a light spray of oil is released from the creaking peel. With the crust gone the north and south poles are craters leading to the center of the fruit. The naked globe is the same color as its bright crust. The globe is shaped like a pumpkin, hills and valleys run from north to south. A white pulp covers the sphere like veins. In places the veins were broken a bruise of pulp spreads out.
When the sphere is grasped, thumbs at the north pole all other fingers at the south, the globe can be broken into segments. The individual wedges cannot be broken easily, but when punctured they leak a sweet nectar. If a wedge can be pried open small sacks are revealed; each one almost full to bursting with the nectar.
The sections are eaten one by one until only the bitter, unwanted crust remains. The inside of the crust is the pulp that left its impression on the fruit. The shell gives off a pleasant odor. The pieces of skin lie on the table in an artistically tragic heap; the testimony to the globe’s existence.