a study in sweet meats

i'm very particular about my fruits and juices. i don't like them too sweet. every morning, i'd eat a plateful of papaya, plus the odd bits of pomelo. the jackfruit, the longan, the guava, even the watermelon and pineapple proved less pleasureable. the first morning, the plethora of fruit juices excited me. i tried a peach. it was intrusive. since then, i stuck to the citrus.

breakfast was fantastic: the pianist, the soft rain and soft eggs. the view overlooked the beach, where an empty long boat floated in melancholy solitude. i ate in an anime setting.

the japanese girls nibbled their salads. the germans had their cold cuts and dark breads. the americans loomed over their mountains of rolls, peaks of butter. the british returned for course after course, each wet fruit eaten just as primly as each fresh fruit as each dried fruit. the chinese stored their nuts in their napkins. i swallowed the world to beat them all.