this is not a post about food

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isto não é um post sobre comida.

quando era miúda, lembro-me de ver os meus pais comerem rabanetes e pensar que nunca lhes iria tocar sequer, quanto mais comer. as couves, o suplício das couves. passam os anos e os gostos mudam. a música, a roupa, as ideias, os preconceitos, as teimas. tudo é tão volátil, tão pó. pode dizer-se que somos criaturas inconstantes (e somos, oh se somos), mas há mudanças que trazem luz. e essas, espera-se sempre que, mais cedo ou (muito) mais tarde, aconteçam.

 

when i was a kid, i remember seeing my parents eating radishes and thinking i would never touch them, let alone eat them. the cabbages and what a torture it was to eat them. years go by and preferences change. music, clothes, ideas, prejudices, a certain stubberness. everything so volatile. dust. you can say we are fickle creatures (we are, oh we most definetly are), but there are changes that bring light. and those, you always hope that sooner or (much) later, they might happen.

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