Figs! So many figs. Usually one or two edible, but that’s all. This summer it bore the usual hard green figs but they ripened. The birds were as excited as we. So, walking under the leaves, each penis and testicle shaped – no wonder Adam clothed himself in one – a heart shaped linden leaf more suitable for Eve? – the sun glowing through, and reaching for a ripe fig, skin dull brownish green but within rings of dull cream and purple surrounding soft wet pinky orange seeds, its secret garden. Food for gods.
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