I was at a fruit stand, buying guava. I normally pick the ones that look pretty to me. An old lady squeezed into the narrow space, she took a guava in her hand, weighed it, put it down, picked another one, and did the same thing. Soon, she had a pile of guavas.
I begged her to teach me.
She waved her hands, gesturing no, and said, “Don’t ask me to teach you. I actually don’t know how, either. But this is my way: the paler ones are more matures and thus sweeter than the green ones. The heavier ones taste better than the light ones. The tall ones have smaller center (which you throw away) than the fatter one.”
I imitated her and started my own pile. But I did not get rid of the one that was the prettiest, too pretty it was.
It tasted the worst.