The taste of summer.

My sleep's been off, and I'm tired from stress, classwork, and writing, or else I'd fill this entry with the joy it needs. Because I had loquats today. Sure, they're imported from Spain, and for some reason they're called nesperos, but they were loquats close enough for me to call them loquats just the same. Not picked off a tree, but the shape of them is precise that I can remember doing so. The slope of the sidewalk into the gutter and street as I walked down the blocks to get to the trees, and the translucence of the freshest fruits' skin.

Close enough for a memory.