General

Penelope imagined herself looking up at a banana tree, at those gargantuan leaves and the bananas that grow in those clustered bunches. She imagined it as an orchard the same as the one she would sneak into on those long summer afternoons and rest there with a book, looking up at the apples taking on their rosy blush. She felt her fingers curl around the yellow fruit in her hand that had travelled so far to be sitting in the shop around the corner form her house, there when she walked by feeling hungry. It was as if it had brought a little sunshine with it and perhaps, as she ate, it would put a little sunshine in her too.

General

Upon the couch sits a broad yellow grin of the deepest gold; Emily wraps her fingers around the banana as carefully as one might nurture a butterfly, as if it were a thing to marvel. Then, Sierra watches her grin grow to match the sweet fruit, her eyes alive with quirky mirth. An idea was brewing inside that young brain, something dancing to its own beautiful chaotic rhythm.

General

He thought seriously about having "I hate bananas" on his gravestone. He'd lived 93 years only to end up being spoon fed mashed banana every damn morning. He hated their smell, he hated their slimy texture and he hated their god damn cheerful yellow color.

By mudslide, October 7, 2013.
General

What was it about bananas that always reminded him he was a primate? When he peeled back the sunny skins to reveal the pale fruit inside, he thought his internal glee must be identical to all those monkeys over millions of years that gradually became us.

By mudslide, October 7, 2013.
General

Mold grew on the half eaten cereal bowls and even the bananas were blackened and covered in fruit flies.

By mudslide, October 7, 2013.