First of all, know this: you can know nothing. Not a thing to do but sit in the dirt and eat raspberries, let the sun come to fruition above, heavy in the sky like a half-ripe peach. Pull a knife from your pocket and pare apples, lean back as the peel curls suggestively around your thumb, oh vegetative love. Then grab an orange, the skin tough beneath your fingernails. No way to ignore it, it is too real: your tongue against the flesh, the fruit, the seed.