This heirloom tomato jumped out at me this morning. I think it looks like a human heart. Punctured in places, striated with scars, not as full and round and perfect as it once was, but still shining with reflected light. The scar tissue is even, in its own way, elegant; it surely has its own unique texture that holds many stories. There are holes, there are uglinesses, but there is still great beauty in this bulbous, uneven thing.
