it would not be true to state or even suggest that i have some sort of quarrel or issue with fruit. whereas i do not eat much in the way of fruit direct, look you see, the existence of such neither upsets nor, as is trendy, offends me. most fruits, i shall have the record reflect, are ones i find splendid when presented as a preserve or pure jam.
bar the occasional instance of a strawberry once in a while (when served eating somewhere posh), it is that there is but one fruit i would tend to eat "straight" and by choice. which is, as you may well have ascertained or guessed from the title, the banana. or a banana, however one should word it.
a strong case, or argument, exists that i should jolly well eat more fruit than i do. it is so, however, that i seem to have a bit of a 'psychological' issue with it. for some reason the texture of most fruits, when they connect with my tongue, mouth and what have you, cause a deeply unpleasant sensation. strange, in light of this, that for some reason i find a banana most agreeable.
recently, then, i purchased a packet (or bunch, if you will) of bananas, with the intention of eating them. some of these i already have consumed, but yet some remain. on procuring these, i could not but help notice one of them had a clear spot which could only be a liquid which had dried on the surface of the skin. actually, more than one, but there was just the one which struck me so. no, i shall not identify which one, let me let you gaze upon them and see what you shall see. but probably not in the above image, which is of course in the greater good and glory of Commodore 64 mode.
perhaps this is symptomatic of circumstance giving me too much time to imagine, or maybe lingering within remains fragments of the more poetic i once was. all the same, in any of those directions, this one marking really struck me. yes, true, also, it could just be me being more melancholy and hormonal than expected, should the male menopause be a thing. but still, here we are.
with some immediacy my mind accepted the mark as that left by a single tear shed in proximity of the banana, and there it fell, leaving a stain or mark. stain is probably more apt, or if you like poetic, i suppose. that is a word which both poetry and pottery types rather like, after all.
exactly how did the tear come to fall here? what was the casual causal reason for the tear in the first place? so many more questions. my initial thought, formed quite quickly in a moment of distraction which in all likelihood saw me momentarily block an aisle in a supermarket, was that the tear fell from an eye of the farmer in costa rica who grew (or nurtured) these bananas. it is not extraordinary to think in terms of the relationship between seed and sower; sadness surely follows the inevitable parting of the ways. a natural sadness may form when the farmer knows of his labour heading for lands unknown.
this in itself prompts a question, interesting or not. do these farmers, or such orchard keepers (whatever may the correct term for growing bananas be) know where their crops are destined to go in this shared yet remote world of ours? i know a little close to nothing of costa rica. of what interest is it to the farmer where the bananas end up, i speculate. does the concern end with income alone? possibly.
for what i do know of costa rica, or am at least aware, well, it is to proceed with some caution when speaking of the place. as i recall matters, the nation is the sole reason for just one, singular episode of my most beloved show, Seinfeld being if not quite banned then at least suppressed or withdrawn. so let it be, let me not speculate too much, then.
yes, i am perfectly aware this marking may have come from all manner of ways. as i understand it bananas do "sweat" when packaged, with that quasi precipitation and the natural consequence thereof likely to be the most plausible explanation for the marking which affects me so. but still my inclination is to go for if not the more poetic reasoning then the more romantic. should that be a form of confession, or an admission of some longing left bereft, so be it.
certainly, every chance exists i may well see (or observe) other markings, and that it could be they draw a similar (if not the same) reaction. should this come to be, on the basis that i continue to write of such things here, sure, i may well comment more on this sort of thing.
be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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