What happens when you think of an orange?

Photo by Erik Mclean on Unsplash

Indulge me for a moment.

Think of an orange and pay close attention to what happens.

Do you see the citrus fruit in your mind?

Now, your answer might be yes, of course I do.

Or it might be, no, don’t be stupid.

If you answered yes, then chances are you didn’t realise that anyone might answer no (and vice versa).

So, this is what happens when I think of an orange:

I see an orange-coloured sphere, about the size of a tennis ball. The surface is covered with small indents, like tiny dimples. On the top is a small button of faded green, where the fruit once hung from the tree. There is a hard indent at the bottom.

I see the orange in detail, more detail than about two-thirds of people.

If you answered no above, you might wonder what I’m on about. Chances are, however, your experience falls somewhere between vivid detail and nothing at all.

Now, think of an event from your past. Here’s mine:

I’m lying on a beach, the gentle sound of the waves crawling to the shore. I can feel the towel beneath me and the sand between my toes; it’s grainy and I don’t like the way it scratches at my skin. I sit up and brush the sand from the towel and spy the children selling their trinkets to the tourists further along the beach. We bought some silver from them yesterday and promised to bring them some shampoo and other spare toiletries. Hannah from Kerala, with her brightly coloured sari and rings on her toes, silver and gold bangles on her wrists and a bracelet on her ankle, is standing in the distance while the two younger children display the items they have for sale; sandalwood necklaces and silver rings. Vanessa is reading and I think about going for a swim. There’s the slightest breeze, but it’s warm here, far warmer than northern England in February.

From the water, I look back towards the beach, the huts, and the small bar where a man has been sitting all morning. There’s an older man practising his yoga, looking like he arrived back in the ’60s when Goa was inhabited by hippies looking for love and enlightenment. He’s skinny, hardly an ounce of fat on his tanned and sun weathered skin…