Eating a peach...

Take a peach. Sun ripened, room temperature and just ripe, not overly ripe… Have you ever felt your lips reaching the velvety skin of a peach, them pursing as you sink your teeth into the flesh? Have you ever peeled off the velvety, dry, soft skin on top with your teeth, and felt your teeth meet the flesh of the fruit? Your tongue coming to the aid to catch the sweet aromatic juices as your teeth sink into the firm, soft flesh? You take a first bite, your mouth bursts with flavour, sweetness, slinkiness of the glossy morsel as your nose inhales the memory of peacefulness and warmth that has brought this fruit to ripeness. Ah, the excitement of that first morsel, the excitement of novelty, of a new experience. And how about further morsels, once the excitement subdues? A reflective mood and enjoyment replaces the initial reaction, and as you continue you reach the woody, rough solid stone. The tip of your tongue feels the holes and grooves, meets the filaments that tickle your tongue. With all flesh gone, you might use your incisors to carefully lift those filaments, trying to prize them away intact. The stone remains alive and part of the fruit as long as it is wet. Once you discard it, you detach yourself from that complicit moment of sheer enjoyment of what was that very peach…