At every turn, I find fruit lurking, hiding, looming, out to get me. I don’t know what it is about fruit, it just doesn’t want me to live. I’m surrounded by orchards, of course, and the whispering of the trees in the afternoon is clearly a vast fruity conspiracy to get me.
But I have to set that aside for now.
I cannot let my troubles with fruit stand in the way of progress.
Progress for me depends on my selling my fears as a grand vision.
We must counter our fears of the trees. Their reign of leafy terror must come to an end. It should be possible to impulsively stop anywhere and rest without hearing the trees whispering things about us.
Even I have doubts about whether I will succeed.