Capsicum Annuum
- Nadia Lubrano
- Dec 19, 2017
- 1 min read
Strolling over the grounds of an art museum I came across a garden, overgrown with wilted lettuce and intertwining tomato vines. Five specks of crimson amongst the dying vegetation caught my attention. Crouching down next to the plant, I gingerly picked the chillies, placing them into the palm of my trembling hand. I collapsed on the patch of grass beside me, dew immediately penetrating my jeans. I observed the vermillion skin of the smallest pepper, glistening in the sun, absorbing its heat. I raised the chilli toward the ominous grey sky and opened my mouth to take my first bite.
Recent Posts
See AllTight seat with tight belt. Through the window there’s invisible stars. Downwards, countless lights merge into one. All the footprints ...
Steam rises gently, Her hands dance with spice and love, Home tastes warm and safe. One bite of the rich And flavorful cinnamon, ...
Through the spring window is a bright burst of new green— great times are coming. The birds are singing, they are on their schedule—...