With a coarse outer skin that feels tough, the lychee doesn’t want you to know that with little effort the thin protective layer can be pulled away. The reveal? Plump translucent sweetness. A pale flesh that feels swollen to the touch, dripping and barely clinging to it’s slick stone center.
How could I not relate to this fruit?
Memories of grabbing a bag from China Town on a hot New York day, demonstrating to a new group of friends how to pierce the skin with a nail or a tooth, laughing with a lover with sticky hands on a dark rooftop, lounging in my apartment on this day, as I eat the lychee fruit, I’m in every memory at once. Which is both as cool and sweet as the lychee’s inner prize and as bitter and brief as it’s ruddy shell.
