It’s a sunny Saturday in August. We are in a peach orchard with my friends. I’m eating a peach with one hand and holding my camera with the other one. Every peach I eat, I think the next one can’t possibly be more delicious, but somehow it is. My friends laughter is in the background and I’m thinking of this poem:
“
..
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.
O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.
There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.”
– Li-Young Lee
