My father and I

My dad knew the flavor of his mouth, however he would eat his stomach with a little bit of bread. My mom prepared beans, chickpeas, green beans; No issue what he really does. A cut of bread cuts, the sustenance isn't completely cooked on the stove, he cut a little cut of bread cut into the water. "Gracious, my mom couldn't see bread scraps," she murmured in my ear.

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He lights me, he makes another one to himself, we would eat together. Will we take a gander at one another and make another? We inquired. We generally stated, "Please." When we get this, this is our last chomp when we're set. We'd state. All things considered, that is the point at which I discovered. Goodness, my dear dad.

Be that as it may, my dessert begun to dissolve, you didn't see? Obviously you've been lying there with me. When I was discussing my dad's bread cut, I likewise had tomato glue made by aunties who were near my psyche. I'm trying to say how pleasant it is in glue. I do it sometimes, however you know, it doesn't pose a flavor like it was in those minutes.

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Life is here; Sweet, salty, nibble. She leaves colossal flavors in her mouth. And afterward we add bright sauces to this account.

My low jaw! It couldn't be any more obvious, my dessert has softened. How about we eat and we should return home before the sun sets.

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