"She scares me because I believe in the strength of her passion. Beside her I worry that I’m fraudulent; that I’ve even conned myself into believing in my depth. Still I charge head-first through fear, because not trying is tragic, and I’m addicted to her influence."
"She destroys reality; her lies are not lies, they are roles she wants to live out. She has made greater efforts than everyone I know to live out her illusions. When she told you that her mother had died, that she never knew her father, that she was illegitimate, she wanted to begin nowhere, to begin without roots, to plunge into invention. Anyone could be her father. She loved the suspense, the possible surprise. She did not want to be classified, she did not want to be associated with any race, nationality or background either. Her pallor, her upward curving eyebrows, her cape, her jewelry, her destruction of the boundary lines between night and day, her hatred of sunlight, are all escapes from rigid patterns."
"He made us all feel like he wished he could. He brought joy and surprise, and he would take you places you wouldn’t even know you wanted to be. He gave you all the things he would’ve wanted to have. And that’s what made him so generous."
Behold — the fruit that tastes like chocolate pudding — the black Sapote. The tropical fruit is a species of persimmon that is grown from an evergreen tree native to eastern Mexico, Guatemala and Colombia, but is currently also cultivated in Florida, Australia, the Philippines, the Dominican Republic, Cuba and Hawaii.
When ripe, the black Sapote is eaten fresh or used as a chocolate substitute in recipes and milkshakes or simply mixed with yogurt and lemon juice. In Mexico, the pulp is mashed with orange juice or brandy and served with cream.