Bad Fruit

This sentiment which I bore is one of unease. Being critical of others' works is a very dangerous thing, one of responsibility to yourself as a critic, and it is also an act of faith. A conscientious remark, opinion, thought and impression is often an ideal few of us could achieve. It is always tempting to draw from subjectivity and it's easy too.

The indulgence of tearing apart an original piece of work, especially a creative one, is always ripe for the picking, and suffering when the fruit is gnawed by teeth and lashed by tongues, all in the name of Taste. It has to be this way before a piece of work - the fruit - is deemed good or bad, fresh or unripe, unique or common. Some fruits have a slight requirement like, Time, for it is a nurturing and impartial judge; it has always stay constant and unwavering, so Time is a trustworthy ally. Fruits which require Time before an impression or Taste is acquired are generally helpless; there is nothing to lean on except patience and endurance without rest but a constant effort to stay resilient.

But a trained eye, like that of a Fruit Grower, is able to perceive and analyse the potential of a fruit during harvesting; through the dexterity of the grower's hand and visual astuteness. When a fruit bears a mark of weakness - uncharacteristic colour and softness - which is lame for survival and consumption, elimination without second thought is inevitable. No matter how little is left to be salvaged, is useless. Only a simple truth remains: A bad fruit. The problem is, who is the Fruit Grower, and how can we identify such a person?

I came across a piece of work, and I couldn't shake it off my mind. It was hard not to think it contrived, accompanied with a sense of dread. It left me with a bitter taste like a rotten fruit, and because I chose to taste it due to the fact that I'm no expert to judge a fruit just by appearance alone, so the experimental way it was for me. Like a novice, who is still impaired with experience and proper training, I picked the fruit, despite its sallowness on the outside and limpness to the touch, cut it, took a bite... and I met the Fruit Grower that day.