Young eyes examine the reptilian orange surface, pockmarked with deeper shaded wells of zest, an alien orb, a small exotic planet waiting to be explored and mined. He pushes a thumb to break the the peal. The rind erupts in a fragrant spray reminiscent of a steamy Yellowstone geyser. Pulling back reveals the white sponge beneath as droplets flavor the air, shimmering in the light. The orange surface is carefully removed in one long strip, around and around the little moon to reveal the small segments, like squishy orange grubs huddled together in a ring, beneath. One is separated from its companions. The half moon has its own skin which, when broken, reveals a thousand tiny oblong sacks with pointed ends lying huddled together … this is where the treasure lies, each a reservoir of flavor too insignificant to be savored on its own, but when combined to burst as one, a symphony of citrus.