"Ripe fruit of summer, delicate and small at my fingertips, the red berries of my earliest childhood... the most innocent of delights.
Trees laden with fruit, for me the first glimpse of paradise, a moment when I became aware and savored innocence, and perfection was totally attainable. I was three, and there were small fruit, clustered just overhead, ripe and free to anyone, as many as one could ever want, to be shared with squirrels and birds and all creation. Time was suspended, and the fruit would be there. One only had to reach." -Eve
