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quarta-feira, 19 de agosto de 2009

Nacos de prosa (13)

It is impossible not to love someone who makes toast for you. People's failings, even major ones such as when they make you wear short trousers to school, fall into insignificance as your teeth break through the rough, toasted crust and sink into the doughy cushion of white bread underneath. Once the warm, salty butter has hit your tongue, you are smitten. Putty in their hands.


Nigel Slater, Toast.

4 comentários:

  1. Onde é que está o botãozinho do "Gosto"? Porque gosto. Muito! :)

    *
    Mariana

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  2. É uma autobiografia escrita através da comida. Estou só no início mas é muito giro.

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  3. Simply delicious.
    Love it. I want more.
    kisses

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Comments are welcome :-)