Carambola
Carambola, star-fruit, I never saw such angular precision or delectable sweetness. Mother stood barefoot by the kitchen sink and peeled the ridges off their fingers, ripe golden stars stretched ovoid...
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I woke in the middle of the afternoon in summer, sweating in tropical island heat and hearing my mother clattering with a bucket outside, and the tap in the garden running and squeaking. There was...
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