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(post, Laura Sohn)
Do you remember first seeing the inside of a kiwi? I don't. I was still young enough that food put in front of me was not questioned, but consumed. I didn't think how weird it was that there was hair on the outside. Not the plush fuzz of a peach but two-day bristles. I didn't notice that cutting it the long way made the segments fan out; I didn't know it had segments. And of course it was the perfect counterpart to strawberries. Hairy skin, hairy stem, black seeds on the outside, black seeds on the inside. Every six-year-old knew green went with red. I just picked up a kiwi that's been sitting in my kitchen for a week, unripe, and thought, This Is Awesome. As children, our food is very literal. An orange is orange on the outside and the inside. A red apple is red, a green apple is green, and they both have an unassuming translucence on the inside. At least we know what vegetables will taste bitter and better with cheese: they're green! But not a kiwi. Cut open a kiwi and forget the tartness, the crunch of the seeds. Forget the fact that soon, tall bumps will form on your tongue and it'll be time to stop or get a glass of milk. Just look at that. We get to eat that.