Childhood Mornings

I remember when I was maybe eleven.I had to wake up as early as seven, rush to the neighborhood baker. He made our street smelled like heaven. The fresh bread gives me warmth on my morning walk. And a lady sitting in the street, selling something to eat. Breakfast routine that I love to remember. Memories of early December.

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strangerpaths

Poet, making sense of war, humanity, love and greed. Trying to find the magic in ordinary things. I am Zee

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