I would walk downstairs following the smell of freshly baked bread and the garlic potage, and when I entered the dining room, my mouth would start to water.
The Long Way Home 110
July 9, 2009 by hakodatedre
Posted in stories | Tagged alexander, alone, coldplay, comfort, dandelions, darkness, dining room, doctor, downstairs, dream, family, fear, francais, french, frenchdashmusic, garlic potage, hakodate, hakodatedre, historian, history, home, love, memoire, mouth-watering, music, nightmares, oasis, radiohead, short stories, smell of freshly baked bread, story, writing | No Comments Yet
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