Yesterday my 50k of the novel was finished: it made me so proud, despite not being the biggest amount of text I have written in such a short amount of time (though I did other things than cycle, cook and write this time, I somehow fit it between my classes at uni.) It’s not even half of the plot I planned, but it’s going well and I am happy. Writing always makes me so obviously happy.
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In Poland we used to grow bittercress in plastic containers filled with cottonwool, back in primary school or kindergarten. In winter, since there are no herbs and no fancy lettuce I am used to eat all the time, we grow the bittercress on out windowsill. It has a bitter, pronounced flavour that not everyone enjoys, but for me it is going back in time to when I was six and we proudly cut the little pieces to put them on our food, thus the sandwich, besides being very green in the middle of leafless autumn, always makes me smile.
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