The pomelo, or the “Chinese Grapefruit,” is an uncommon member of the citrus family, distinguished by its sheer size and pale, pear-like appearance, and has the presence of a fat, cross-legged Buddha. Holding it between your palms, it is so large and dense that it seems to have the hermetic complexity of a human head. Your Western mind has met its match; it may take you some time to decide how to enter its thick, rough skin. The most promising way in involves a simple and violent action.

When the knife penetrates the husk, giving your fingers a chance to pull it apart, a line has been crossed. From this point on, only you or the pomelo will triumph.

The fruit’s armor goes down much deeper than you anticipated. It slowly comes undone, piece by piece. With its iron suit now lying broken on a nearby plate, the pomelo reveals its inner white coat, a thin layer of fibrous chain mail. Your opponent appears vulnerable but is not scared. Although it has been reduced to the size of an earthly grapefruit, it is white like the sacred lotus and exists in a state of mental purity and spiritual perfection. The pomelo radiates a calm strength, prepared to resist your force.

Immediately your fingers are caught in the snowy web. You can see shades of nourishing red pulp in the distance, like a setting sun. You are losing daylight quickly, picking at the tough fibers that hold the fruit together, unable to separate them as if they were strands of oakum waiting to be picked and untwisted by slaves. At this moment you realize that you need help, but you have been deserted by your companions. You are a defeated knight, a shamed explorer returning from the East without riches. Your best intentions wasted.