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"Day 19 - Honeydew Honey*
Colour: Apple juice. I want to organise these into series; apple juice, apple cider, white wine, various other booze.
Smell: That body smell, ringed with green-fleshed melon that gives the scent a supple thickness.
Taste: Melon, pie, and pistachio."
*So, we have a melon named for the fact that it tastes like honey, flavouring honey - I think I would like very much to try this one too.
The story today is very sad, and very true, for all that it is fantastical fiction. We live in an age, I am afraid, which handles metaphors poorly and magic almost not at all. A lengthy Tom Stoppard quote, from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead:
"A man breaking his journey between one place and another at a third place of no name, character, population or significance, sees a unicorn cross his path and disappear. That in itself is startling, but there are precedents for mystical encounters of various kinds, or to be less extreme, a choice of persuasions to put it down to fancy; until--"My God," says a second man, "I must be dreaming, I thought I saw a unicorn." At which point, a dimension is added that makes the experience as alarming as it will ever be. A third witness, you understand, adds no further dimension but only spreads it thinner, and a fourth thinner still, and the more witnesses there are the thinner it gets and the more reasonable it becomes until it is as thin as reality, the name we give to the common experience... "Look, look!" recites the crowd. "A horse with an arrow in its forehead! It must have been mistaken for a deer."
So, when offered a chance to taste dawn, we find ourselves mouthing bread, and, perhaps, not very good bread, and that is all. Very sad.