It’s time for durian again.
Some years the durian season is an abundant one. Roadside stalls mushroom overnight. Folks gather, families and gangs of friends, to feast together.
Some years the durian season is a poorer thing. The rains came too early, the fruits fell too soon before they could ripen. Everyone feels the loss. There is a sense of impoverishment, a bad taste on our tongue. A dry time.
It comes and it goes. So we celebrate when times are good. We eat our full. The loud burping, the stench afterwards a benediction. And we dream of the next round. Our dreams are full and we make room for more.