the papaya portraits

Moving to a place with a completely different climate (from Finland to Morocco) changes a lot of things. First of all, every instinct I have about the seasons (the smell of one changing into another, the cloud patterns, the length of the day) is completely wrong: last week, I was convinced that it was June, but my calendar claimed that it was February. Second, the living creatures look different, behave strangely and keep growing throughout the year instead of hibernating. We keep buying locally produced vegetables no matter if it’s winter, summer or something else. It might sound like a complaint, but it really isn’t; it’s different, and beautiful.

Every morning, I take a walk around the farm where I live. A couple of days ago, I went into a greenhouse and saw that the magnificent papaya tree had lost one of its huge fruits. It wasn’t ripe yet, so I decided to take it with me so I could photograph and dissect it – crazy biologist mode kicking in. I’ve seen papayas in the shops in Finland, but this is the first place I’ve seen them grow.

And what better way to get to know someone/something, than by taking portraits of them?

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The ageless papaya.

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A happy colour portrait in a comfy chair.

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The classic.

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Papayas are apparently very prone to crying when you poke them with a sharp object.

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Post-dissection.

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The green outside of the fruit didn’t lie – this fruit was not ripe at all. The seeds were tiny and white, creating an interesting landscape in the process.

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The mother tree.

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