Over Retired Explorer (Dines With Michel Foucault In Paris, 1961)

There were red/green apples strung around the room and none of them were ripe. That's what I was told, anyhow. My hunch was that they were a hybrid that was part green apple. I bit into one to see, and found that they were a bit soft toward the outside and crisp in the middle. All of these apples were going to rot in hopes that they would ripen.