Last time I ate countless cashews, was next day of Festival. We waited for guests but when nobody came until late, to fill the gap, we pretended ourselves to be guests. We smiled, roared, laughed, chatted and ate lots of cashews, pistachios, roasted almonds, walnuts. We tasted them after a hell, whole year. We savored them, although the excitement killed some taste.
But it was fine. And after festival, we saw at the residues, looking at us from the air-tight container, as if they pitied us for being hopelessly rigid.
Comments