On oranges.
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Oranges

I never expected to love oranges the way I did in Belgium. Not because they were any different from the oranges I’d eaten in America. Not because they were ever in short supply, despite not being native to the Low Countries. And certainly not because they were the only fruit I ate away from home. (Shoutout to the many other fruits I cooked and baked with—pears, apples, strawberries, mangoes, and especially pineapples—plus the others I craved, like peaches.) Rather, by just a few too many overlapping circumstances to be called “coincidence,” oranges ended up populating my days, nights, and even my imagination.
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