We took a walk with Romeo and found an apple tree on Privilege Street. We each had one from the grass. A guy on a bicycle stopped to tell me the trees had not been sprayed. "I just don't want you to get sick," he said as I shined the apple and bit into it. "Thanks, it's fine," I said, "No worms," I showed him the bit open apple and he pedaled away.
When I arrived home I made fried plantains, my new favorite food.
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