When we buy fruit from the grocery store, which we do not wish to eat immediately nor anytime in the near future, our ultimate goal is to preserve said fruit until a suitable time for its consumption. The fruit’s survival depends on the continued existence of its nutrient-filled, delicious body and thus must be preserved in this state for as long as possible. So, we place said fruit into the fridge, an ice box capable of defending against the passage of time, the fruit’s mortal enemy, which carries the law of entropy in hand as it marches on and on toward the end. Inside the fridge it no longer exists in a way things exist outside the fridge, such as a cat would. It is dark in the fridge and cold, akin to the depths of the soul, allowing the fruit to contemplate itself in relation to the world around it, always out of sight in the darkness. When the fruit emerges from the fridge it is bathed in light and from this light does it make its way in the palm of a giant to the belly of life. Long live the fridge. May it preserve our fruits until all are one.