Presented to me: Half a
kiwi, denuded and gaspingly green, shallow grooves gouged into its surface. An inviting verdant egg of
softish sweetness, with black seeds encircling a pale core like an ornately-threaded necklace. No speck of brown, no residue of
fuzz, no awkward bruise, no fissure of a fruit grasped too tightly. Only the shallow grooves gouged into its surface. Only the sweet, piquant offering of a piece of glistening generosity, an
unspoken sentiment embodied in green, black, and white.
Do you know how difficult it is to peel half a kiwi with your bare hands?