The mangosteen (Garcinia mangostana) is a tropical evergreen tree with edible fruit native to Maritime Southeast Asia, from the Malay Peninsula to Borneo. It is grown mainly in Southeast Asia, southwest India, and other tropical areas such as Colombia, Puerto Rico and Florida, where the tree has been introduced. The fruit is sweet and tangy, juicy, somewhat fibrous, with fluid-filled vesicles (like the flesh of citrus fruits), with an inedible, deep reddish-purple colored rind (exocarp) when ripe. In each fruit, the fragrant edible white flesh that surrounds each seed is the endocarp, the inner layer of the ovary, and is roughly the same shape and size as a tangerine, about 4 to 6 centimetres (1.5 to 2.5 inches) in diameter. This photograph, which was focus-stacked from 22 individual images, shows two mangosteens, one whole, and the other halved to expose the endocarp.Photograph credit: Ivar Leidus
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It is so terribly sad that I have to explain that the above is a JOKE
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!