Entry 1:
The avocado has bumps on it like I have on my shoulder. The freshness of the avocado shines through like it’s calling out to be made into guacamole. I picked him out today, so he is as fresh as can be. He is probably only a couple days old. When I shake the avocado you can’t hear the pit inside, which s weird because it’s so big. It’s funny since the inside of the pit is almost as big as the avocado itself. If he could talk, I wonder where he would say he’s from. Maybe he is from Mexico, like the jingle Avocados from Mexico. Wegmans labeled the avocado 4226, I wonder what that number represents.
Entry 2:
The avocado has become soft and mushy, like an old can of soup. The wonderful young avocado I purchased for $2 has lost its colorful green shine. It’s now a dark green with some a large black circle. As the avocado gets older, I wonder if it will taste the same. He has seen no light except the light that shines through the cracks of my backpack zipper. The avocado now seems a little rancid like when brussel sprouts are made. I wonder if the avocado pit has changed colors. The pit I believe represents the feelings of the avocado, just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
I really enjoyed your use of similes – as found in the first sentence of each entry – as it shows you are constantly making comparisons in order to help you become more familiarized with the avocado. Another thing I thought was interesting was how quickly your writing changed based off of the appearance and feel you had for the avocado from the first entry to the second.
Thank you so much Luke!
Luke is really onto something about your similes. Here’s my favorite: “The avocado now seems a little rancid like when brussel sprouts are made.” I’ve seen my wife fry brussel sprouts, so I think I know exactly what you mean. Or at least I know that you made me think and take a short vacation somewhere, which it what good similes do.
Thank you Mr. Stephens.