Saved by a fig.

Yesterday I woke up and felt like everything might be ok if I just sat still forever and kept breathing. I tried it out for awhile but then realised that sooner or later someone would come and make me get out of bed, or else I'd die of a burst bladder.
So I got up.
I didn't have a really, really good excuse to be feeling like that, but it was just one of those dark days. Everything was too much for me and my mind felt as if all it could manage was stillness and the intake of oxygen. I ate breakfast and then spent a lot of time staring at things for no reason. I had a shower, got dressed and put on the brown coat that lives in our house. Rachel's mum bought it for her years and years ago and then Rachel gave it to Kate because she didn't want it anymore. When Kate moved in here she brought the coat but then decided that she didn't want it anymore and gave it to me (more of an 'extended loan') and then Rachel moved in and now we laugh about how the coat has drawn us all together. If that's not recycling, I don't know what is!
Anyway, I put on the coat, stuffed my ears full of ipod and hid in the nice warm hood as I made my way down to the shops. I had to buy stuff for afternoon tea, as I was having friends over, so I headed for the fabulous shop, 'Naturally On High', also known as 'Al Wadi'. The man who owns this shop made me smile because he knows me now and he said 'hi' and even told me that our fruit and veg order had gone through. I like it when people in shops remember me, it makes me feel like part of the place. The other day the girl who works in Devour said, 'Where's ya man?' when I was having coffee with girlfriends. I smiled all the way home.
So anyway, I bought stuff, (turkish delight, dried pears, dates and mountain bread) which took me ages because I shuffled around feeling lost and couldn't muster the desire to pick up things that required reaching. Finally I headed home. It was cold and despite the Al Wadi man's greeting, I was still feeling heavy hearted. I headed for the laneway behind our house, cos the back way is quicker and I love cobblestones. All streets should still be cobbled, I reckon. It would slow everyone down nicely. Just near our back gate there was a massive fig tree looming over the fence from someone else's backyard. It was dripping with figs and they covered the ground in a purple mush. I reached up, although I had never eaten a fig before, and picked one that looked nice and ripe. I took it inside and put it on the chopping board and looked at it for awhile and then sliced it open with a strange sensation of ritual and solemnity. This is what I saw.



I literally gasped, out loud, as the two halves fell away from eachother and lay rocking on the wood. The picture really doesn't capture the beauty of that little fruit. I was mesmerised. It was so intricate and pink and delicate and hidden. And to think that outside, in my very own cobbled laneway, there was a whole tree bearing hundreds and hundreds of these little encased treasures. Seeing as I was having a staring kind of day, I stood and stared down at the fig for a few minutes then took it over to the window and put it down in the light and watched it for a bit longer. The flesh started to bleed shiny, white fluid and the crimson seeds glistened. Pink tendrils clustered together like coral and a sweet, satisfying smell arose. My heart started to feel full and red and fleshy again, as if it was as secret and precious and alive as the inside of the fig. My dark day had been overcome by crimson.
When Nick came over last night I told him about it and he understood completely, as I knew he would, and didn't think it was at all strange that I got teary over fruit.
I got up this morning and picked a fig for him to cut open too.


In other news, I have a fringe (as seen below) although my mouth seems to have disappeared into the silly face I was pulling. Such a comedian.