Slices of Clementine

Beneath the bitter peel she has cultivated, Clementine lives in a constant balance between endurance and erosion, control, and collapse. The outer layer of its peel is deliberate and rigid, shaped by habit and necessity.

Yet even the hardest surfaces wear down. Pressure accumulates. Kindness abrades. The structure she relies on begins to shift, not violently and not suddenly, but inevitably. What emerges is not fragility, but something quieter and more vulnerable, tenderness that has been waiting beneath the peel, patient and unassuming, asking only to be noticed.

Slices of Clementine (not clementines haha🥹)