Okay, so let's dispense with the basics: We have a sandwich of almond butter and blackberry preserves, a few sticks of celery, a hard-boiled egg, some grapes for packing material, and a plum.
Look at it! Look at it really hard. Look at the deep, rich, red color. Look at the beautiful dark, thin skins, Look at the way that, even in this low-res lunch photo, the juice glistens, a sweet wet promise. Look at the way the flesh lightens inward where the stone has been removed, an almost solar-eclipse-like effect, making the plum both absence and presence at the same time.
We bought a huge sack of these plums and ate them all week, letting juice run down Our arms and chin, staining fingers and lips a rich violet red unusual in a plum. We must tell you, We are a little weak in the knees. No kidding, W.C.W., these plums were so good that Our desire for them was nearly sexual in its intensity. Solace of ripe plums, indeed.
This is just to say...
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