"It tastes like exactly where you are," she said, and i didn't know what that meant until the juice hit my tongue, the tangled sweetness of something grown in the sun, like the whole island was distilled into this one sip and i guess that's it, isn't it, you can't taste a place until you've let it taste you, until the saltwater has cracked you open and the sun has burned away all the things you thought were you, the way cosmo buries his face in the sand, no hesitation, just pure animal joy, and i used to think that was simple, stupid even, but now i think it's the bravest thing i know, to be so completely, unapologetically present, to taste the exact moment without needing it to be anything else.