in our house, it has always smelt of the cake.
the neighbour said, that he always knew,
when mum is in the house. he recognised
it by the smell of dishes.
I thought how it was possible, because I was
because I was an interesting child,
full of questions and the willingness,
to the prospecting of presents. most often
before Christmas. my searches ended sometimes,
of collapse shelves, with breaking the sugar bowl,
or of the plate. it was beautiful to find
the ‘house’. beautiful with windows, in which
tasty choccy bars were placed. it was better
than other presents. the mum baked the cake because
we liked to breathe this smell, which could
lured everyone, more than bought cream cake.
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