Look to your left,
You’ll see a snake, it’s long body extends down from a hole in the roof you never noticed before.
Tilt your head to the left and see it tilt its head with you.
Tilt your head to the right, it follows
“Bite the apple, Eve”
“My name’s not Eve” you want to reply, but the sudden weight in your hand stops you, you look down to see a plump red apple, shining in your hand.
“Bite the apple, Eve” the snake teases you
You want to tell it that it's not an apple, that the whole apple imagery is a Christian concept, and that the ‘fruit’ of the tree of wisdom could’ve been a piece of barley for all you know, but you can’t, something about the snake’s hanging presence silences you.
“Bite the apple, Eve” the snake repeats
The smell of an apple crumble, cinnamon and butter reach your nose as you turn the apple around in your hand like a tennis ball.
You haven’t eaten in days and the smell is unbearably good, stuff your no sugar diet, stuff that voice that's telling you no.
You lift it up to your lips.
With the sound of your crunch, the snake and apple disappear and you are left alone, alone with all the new knowledge you now hold.
Alone with the knowledge of perfection and imperfection, alone with the knowledge of consumerism, sexism, racism. Alone with the knowledge that slowly the earth is dying. Alone with the knowledge that you are slowly dying. Alone with the knowledge of all the good deeds in the world. Alone with the knowledge of injustice and justice, war and peace.
You’ve bitten the apple Eve, there’s no undoing that, but now you have the knowledge, so get up and start fixing. Take your new knowledge and use it as a weapon as you fight against all the new evils you’re suddenly aware of.
And if I could make one suggestion, start by fixing the hole in the roof.