Well, I think in a very real sense there is a tone of sadness to it on at least three levels. A certain depression or tragedy that I cannot quite put my finger on.
The entire experience of looking, of gazing upon the work was a transformative one: I felt I had been on a journey from ignorance to something else, really. Not sure what. Perhaps potatoes, perhaps carrots, but in either case I felt the apple was reaching out for something beyond itself.
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I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun,
And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.