An explosion of vibrant flavor bursts in your mouth as you take the first bite. The monstrous amount of natural sugars and syrups are making your mind fuzzy with delight. You close your eyes as a bit of juice rolls down your chin. Your facial expression brightens as you glance as the dingy fruit stand that lies in front of you. It’s pieced together from scraps of wood, and it’s hand-painted phrase, “freshly picked fruit” is peeling at the edges, But you know what? That doesn’t matter, The strawberry you just consumed was picked straight from the vines. Your own eyes could see those crops in the distance, and you know that there is a difference.
It takes some muscle to crack open the plastic container. You pick up a stiff, pale red strawberry and examine it. The top has specks of green, not quite ripe enough. You bite into it. You taste chemicals and pesticides woven into the fruit inside. It’s tangy, and clings to your teeth. The leaves feel like cardstock, and the seeds are bunched together like straight, orderly, ordinary lines.
There is a difference.
I dunno, kind of short. but I thought I’d write it anyways. I know I haven’t posted on here in quite some time, but I promise that won’t happen again. Pinky swear, OK?