Cirrus@Austlit

'It began with small red seeds contained within a round liquid sack, and I gifted them to you on the day a distant relative of yours died. Delicately arranged like the cells of honeycomb against a pale membrane, you stared at the dark red fruit in your palm. It was then, in that exchange, that I wrote fictions of you in my head, about what you were and who you were, but it was really my glorified idea of what I had hoped you to be, it's my fault and I'm sorry. Some scholars say that it was really a pomegranate plucked from the Garden of Eden.'  (Publication abstract)