In we breathe and suck on oranges in the middle of the night, four in the morning to be exact. We humble ourselves to the cold and throw pulp at the side of buildings and watch it freeze as it comes down. You give me an ache in my soul. For real. You give me an ache in my bones in my gut in my head you give me an ache in my soul. But it’s a familiar ache, like a pulsing, and it wakens this dead thing that I thought I put away for a reason and I did, I did put it away for a reason. But every so often I think we need to be reminded of the dark and the ugly and the broken, every so often we need to throw an orange at the side of a building and watch it burst.