Amonranella
@amonranella.bsky.social
I am at home, preparing goods for the journey. Once my basket has been filled, it will begin.
https://youtube.com/@amonranella
https://youtube.com/@amonranella
Peeling: Strange Lessons On Being Seen
YouTube video by amonranella
youtu.be
April 19, 2025 at 12:51 PM
As I cut the slices, each one falls away with grace. And then I hear it, the voice. It needs to tell me something.
youtu.be/kD-DQM3RhPI
youtu.be/kD-DQM3RhPI
How Did It Know What We Should Have?
YouTube video by amonranella
www.youtube.com
April 11, 2025 at 4:27 PM
As I cut the slices, each one falls away with grace. And then I hear it, the voice. It needs to tell me something.
youtu.be/kD-DQM3RhPI
youtu.be/kD-DQM3RhPI
The passionfruit doesn’t pretend. It is what it is—chaotic, unashamed. I stare at it too long, feeling something I can’t name.
April 4, 2025 at 10:32 AM
The passionfruit doesn’t pretend. It is what it is—chaotic, unashamed. I stare at it too long, feeling something I can’t name.
Passion is supposed to drive you, right? So why does it taste like exhaustion? Why does it taste like something I lost? How do the gatekeepers play into it?
youtu.be/J_z_euhG6b8
youtu.be/J_z_euhG6b8
I Was NOT Ready for What Was Inside
YouTube video by amonranella
youtu.be
April 4, 2025 at 10:30 AM
Passion is supposed to drive you, right? So why does it taste like exhaustion? Why does it taste like something I lost? How do the gatekeepers play into it?
youtu.be/J_z_euhG6b8
youtu.be/J_z_euhG6b8
The best laughter is that of a donkey and child. The mango was a portal.
Juice ran down my fingers like melted sunlight. Nothing else mattered.
Juice ran down my fingers like melted sunlight. Nothing else mattered.
March 27, 2025 at 3:22 PM
The best laughter is that of a donkey and child. The mango was a portal.
Juice ran down my fingers like melted sunlight. Nothing else mattered.
Juice ran down my fingers like melted sunlight. Nothing else mattered.
March 26, 2025 at 12:22 PM
The mango was heavier than I expected. And it took me where I could have never expected to go.
It had something to say. I listened.
youtu.be/Eyz3PnwvtTY
It had something to say. I listened.
youtu.be/Eyz3PnwvtTY
While Cutting, I Stumbled Upon a Way OUT
YouTube video by amonranella
youtu.be
March 25, 2025 at 5:19 PM
The mango was heavier than I expected. And it took me where I could have never expected to go.
It had something to say. I listened.
youtu.be/Eyz3PnwvtTY
It had something to say. I listened.
youtu.be/Eyz3PnwvtTY
A slice on my tongue—bright, sharp, real. Even the smallest things offer something. Even me. Even you.
March 22, 2025 at 6:26 AM
A slice on my tongue—bright, sharp, real. Even the smallest things offer something. Even me. Even you.
The world is waiting. The basket is filling. The fruit does not fear transformation. I wonder if I could be like that.
youtu.be/aBJsPrne82s
youtu.be/aBJsPrne82s
March 20, 2025 at 9:02 AM
The world is waiting. The basket is filling. The fruit does not fear transformation. I wonder if I could be like that.
youtu.be/aBJsPrne82s
youtu.be/aBJsPrne82s
The kiwi does not flinch. Outside, laughter. A life I am not living. A moment I am not part of. The fruit opens. I hesitate.
youtu.be/aBJsPrne82s
youtu.be/aBJsPrne82s
How To Know — It Was Then That I Understood
YouTube video by amonranella
youtu.be
March 18, 2025 at 6:35 PM
The kiwi does not flinch. Outside, laughter. A life I am not living. A moment I am not part of. The fruit opens. I hesitate.
youtu.be/aBJsPrne82s
youtu.be/aBJsPrne82s
A severed pineapple crown still holds its shape, waiting. A mandarin peel curls in on itself, stiff with memory. The kiwi? It surrenders. Some things fight becoming. Others know it is inevitable.
March 17, 2025 at 3:20 PM
A severed pineapple crown still holds its shape, waiting. A mandarin peel curls in on itself, stiff with memory. The kiwi? It surrenders. Some things fight becoming. Others know it is inevitable.
The fuzz gave way, the green split open—vivid, alive, unafraid. I wonder what it’s like to exist without resistance.
March 16, 2025 at 8:00 PM
The fuzz gave way, the green split open—vivid, alive, unafraid. I wonder what it’s like to exist without resistance.
I eat. I think of places I haven’t been. Love I haven’t found. The scent of citrus lingers, then fades. The day moves on. So do I. 🍊
March 13, 2025 at 5:36 PM
I eat. I think of places I haven’t been. Love I haven’t found. The scent of citrus lingers, then fades. The day moves on. So do I. 🍊
The mandarin is gone. Just the peel remains, curled like a memory, drying into something else. I watch my empty hands. I should move on.
youtu.be/frWNOv3AtfM
youtu.be/frWNOv3AtfM
I Ate The Fruit – Not Sure I Should Have
YouTube video by amonranella
youtu.be
March 11, 2025 at 5:33 PM
The mandarin is gone. Just the peel remains, curled like a memory, drying into something else. I watch my empty hands. I should move on.
youtu.be/frWNOv3AtfM
youtu.be/frWNOv3AtfM
The way my mother’s hands peeled these so easily, like she knew how to make the world soft. I try. It opens. A quiet kind of love.
March 10, 2025 at 3:59 PM
The way my mother’s hands peeled these so easily, like she knew how to make the world soft. I try. It opens. A quiet kind of love.
A message I don’t open. A fruit I do. The past and the present, peeling away.
This is going to be sweet. Sharp, alive.
This is going to be sweet. Sharp, alive.
March 9, 2025 at 2:24 PM
A message I don’t open. A fruit I do. The past and the present, peeling away.
This is going to be sweet. Sharp, alive.
This is going to be sweet. Sharp, alive.
The Weight of Small Things—
a mandarin in my palm. Light, too light. A tiny planet, a secret, a soul. I peel it. It doesn’t resist. Some things are meant to be let go of.
a mandarin in my palm. Light, too light. A tiny planet, a secret, a soul. I peel it. It doesn’t resist. Some things are meant to be let go of.
March 8, 2025 at 9:09 AM
The Weight of Small Things—
a mandarin in my palm. Light, too light. A tiny planet, a secret, a soul. I peel it. It doesn’t resist. Some things are meant to be let go of.
a mandarin in my palm. Light, too light. A tiny planet, a secret, a soul. I peel it. It doesn’t resist. Some things are meant to be let go of.
The blade goes through. A sigh—mine or the pineapple’s, I can’t tell. The kitchen is too quiet. I wipe my hands. I think about sleep. I think about nothing. I think about everything. And then I eat again.
March 6, 2025 at 12:18 PM
The blade goes through. A sigh—mine or the pineapple’s, I can’t tell. The kitchen is too quiet. I wipe my hands. I think about sleep. I think about nothing. I think about everything. And then I eat again.
The smell hits me—syrupy, cloying, like a summer that doesn’t belong to me anymore. A memory of slow days, thick and golden. Was I happier then? The pineapple doesn’t care. It’s fighting back now, fibers clinging to the blade. This is not a fruit.
youtu.be/MzUuQZPs480
youtu.be/MzUuQZPs480
The Fruit That Should NOT Be Cut
YouTube video by amonranella
youtu.be
March 4, 2025 at 5:15 PM
The smell hits me—syrupy, cloying, like a summer that doesn’t belong to me anymore. A memory of slow days, thick and golden. Was I happier then? The pineapple doesn’t care. It’s fighting back now, fibers clinging to the blade. This is not a fruit.
youtu.be/MzUuQZPs480
youtu.be/MzUuQZPs480
The pineapple twitches. I freeze. I think about emails I haven’t answered, the ceasefire negotiations, the new executive order. Juice seeps from the cut, too sweet, like a bribe. Like a distraction. I should stop thinking. I should keep cutting.
March 3, 2025 at 10:07 AM
The pineapple twitches. I freeze. I think about emails I haven’t answered, the ceasefire negotiations, the new executive order. Juice seeps from the cut, too sweet, like a bribe. Like a distraction. I should stop thinking. I should keep cutting.
I press the knife to its skin. It resists—just enough to make me wonder. The blade sinks in. The pineapple shudders. Maybe it’s my imagination. Juice wells up, thick and golden. Almost red.
I should stop. But stopping is the same as losing…
I should stop. But stopping is the same as losing…
March 2, 2025 at 11:33 AM
I press the knife to its skin. It resists—just enough to make me wonder. The blade sinks in. The pineapple shudders. Maybe it’s my imagination. Juice wells up, thick and golden. Almost red.
I should stop. But stopping is the same as losing…
I should stop. But stopping is the same as losing…
The kitchen hums with uneasy silence. A fan whirs. The knife waits. The pineapple sits, armored and ancient, daring me to make the first move. This is no ordinary fruit. This is something older. Something that knows.
March 1, 2025 at 8:56 PM
The kitchen hums with uneasy silence. A fan whirs. The knife waits. The pineapple sits, armored and ancient, daring me to make the first move. This is no ordinary fruit. This is something older. Something that knows.