I was recently watching a documentary on the Berlin Airlift. They had interviewed a man who was a small child during the blockade. He recounted the spring day when the blockade was lifted and trucks poured into Berlin. The children of the city lined the streets and the drivers threw them fruit and sweets. This little boy had waited all day to get an orange, but he never caught one. He returned home dejected only to find that his mother had somehow found the magical fruit. The man's voice cracked as he remembered, "She had cut open the orange like a lotus flower."
And I couldn't help but think what a heartbreakingly elegant way to describe an orange.