It gets carved by artists, smashed by restless teenagers, cooked by mothers, and eaten by all of us. Yet, it keeps coming back.
Filled with water, seeds, and stringy guts, the pumpkin has been cast into a spell of bizarre human history.
We take its natural shape and conform it into an expression of evil and unusual because it is orange, round, and possesses a hard outer shell.
Poor pumpkin. Did you ever guess that your existence would be perpetuated by our fascination for death, evil, and the desire to portray something else?