Stones

Over two-weeks and two return visits and they were all still hard. My judgement was off, like I had been trying to guess my way through a cup and ball trick. I was missing whichever days their flesh would be soft enough to spread over a bagel and consume. I squeezed my hand through the pile of rock hard avocados as if it were earthquake rubble – hoping, praying that my fingers touched tender skin. Multiple people stopped beside me and then promptly left, sighs trailing behind them, seeing what I was doing as time better spent poking the brown spots on bananas or reading the cover of People magazine while in line for the till.

Then you squatted next to me and dove your hand into the mess. I let you know the situation and we commiserated momentarily but you kept on digging. What made you so resilient even after I cut the head off of any chance of success? There’s no doubt that I also love guacamole but at this point we were just fishing for ghosts. I wished you luck as I finally caved and got up to leave. You thanked me and I saw determination burn in your eyes as your hand continued to root deeper and deeper, and your large, sagging breasts draped themselves over the fruit.

Portrait by Brett Barmby for #POBEshow 2014