November 24, 2021

My dearest,

It’s a simple act. You slicing the ripe cherimoya, into wedges first then extracting the ebony seeds before cutting the flesh further into chunks. You hand me a bowl of this sweet fruit for dessert, something juicy after our equally simple lunch (reheated soup with Chinese cabbage, steamed chicken and riceberry).

Later in the evening, after dinner (what a sumptuous meal, with those savoury and collagen rich pork trotters!), you slice a fragrant nam dok mai. Cubes of the Siamese mango, chilled chunks of cherimoya reserved from earlier, a dollop or two of Greek yoghurt and some homemade granola from our barista friend at Baker Gonna Bake (she gave it to us when we dropped by on – sadly – their last day).

And for you, some peanut butter, of course.

These are bowls of comfort, bowls of pleasure and bowls of simple love. The rarest sort.

Yours, ever and always.