The closest I can get to the Caribbean lately is to begin a painting inspired by the tropics. When on the island it's best to buy papaya from the guy who shows up sometimes with a truck full of edibles. Nothing is better sliced and stored in the fridge for snacking than the fruit of angels. Papaya. I found this beauty at a local market. Maybe it's from there. Maybe it's a variety of papaya that can be grown anywhere. Maybe it's named after a pirate. The sticker reads Caribbean Red. It tasted anything but rough and salty. The slice I savored was ideal. No maybes. My intention was to eat it all, not paint a papaya, but that's how it is sometimes. The papaya insisted and so it begins.