There are blackberries everywhere in the hedges here in Italy. They taste wrong though. They’re drier, harder, less juicy and far less sweet. Despite that they are just as black and just as attractive. I try searching for really ripe ones:
“Mora” says the Puffin Whisperer.
“Is that the Italian word for them?” I ask.
“More, plural”, she says.
“Would you like more more?” I ask, with a smile.