The wise woman walks down the road to me. She is holding a fruit in her hand. “Most people are oranges,” she says. “Orange on the outside, orange on the inside. What you see is what you get. They are quite tasty and sweet of course, but God didn’t want a world of oranges.” She hands me a plum. “You, my precious one, are a plum. Dark purple on the outside like a king, and filled with blonde juiciness inside, like a fragile princess. Hold up your head and be proud. A plum that dreams of being an orange is not nearly as sweet.”


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