"Thank you, tomato." ⠀
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That's what I said while carefully circle-cutting all the wet pink flesh and smooth red skin away from the hard core at the top of my little tomato nub at breakfast the other day. ⠀
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"Thank you for giving me every single edible molecule in your body."⠀
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Then I threw the core in the compost, awkwardly balanced the juicy trapezoidal prisms on top of my melted cheddar and fried egg, and then bit into my sandwich feeling a bit smug.⠀
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I admit I normally slice up just the tomato torso before tossing everything else away. "That would take five seconds of work," I must have thought the first few times, before I stopped thinking about it altogether, before I stopped noticing it at all. ⠀
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But now a giant magnifying glass far beyond the Milky Way is panning across the universe for a closeup on our species. And now I'm suddenly asking, and I'm sure you're asking too: What things do we do that no longer make sense to you? ⠀
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Did you really need to flush?⠀
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Do we really need to rush?⠀
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Can we let our thoughts unhush?⠀
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And live with a little less stuff? ⠀
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AWESOME!