Pink is the colour of my nose because I went for a walk and the sun took full advantage of the fact that I was not wearing a hat. My cheeks and nose are flushed.
Purple is the colour of my tongue. I passed several thickets of wild grapevines that held bunches of blueberry-sized grapes. I investigated carefully. Were these really grapes? Really on grapevines? Really surrounded by grape leaves?
I picked one. I smelled it. Peeled back a bit of skin. Smelled again. Tasted with my tongue. Ooh! Sour! But definitely a grape. Having satisfied myself, through this rigorous testing, that it was not poisonous, I popped it into my mouth. Almost all of it was seed—one large seed filling the whole little grape. I popped in another and walked on.
Then I saw, growing on branches intermingled with the grapevines, an even blacker berry. It was NOT a grape, did NOT grow in bunches, and was definitely on a different stem with different leaves. So: NOT a grape. But the first ones were, and I stole an entire bunch and ate them all, spitting the fat seeds onto the mowed path to create the possibility of new vines the next time I visit.