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Taste of the childhood

It became some sort of personal tradition, summer ritual. Every year as blooming time comes (in normal regions it is called spring, but our spring doesn`t fit the name “normal”) and acacia unfolds its little yellow flowers I won`t miss a bush. When I pass one I always pick a flower or two.
It comes from the childhood: while outside we used to eat different staff. Not because we were hungry or lacked sweets, but because there is something unexplainable in the astringent taste of tiny green rennets or soft tip of a grass-blade. Acacia flowers fall into this category as well, drop of their nectar still feels as good as back then.
It is not common for a gorwn woman walk along the road, snatch little flowers and eat them, and might look strange. I haven`t yet noticed anyone else doing the same, but, perhaps hteir childhood was of a different taste...

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Void
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