A world, a world, a world. Early in the morning, the window fan of the bedroom and the balcony was pushed off the water, and the eyes were taken away by the dodo-whites downstairs. - What? The orchid blooms – as if it had been an unexpected year since returning home – and after six years in the slow-paced tropics, the plane chose to fall in a fast-paced and competitive capital, which is the more twitching option. Work, raising a pair of Meows, preparing a couple of green plants, reading, cooking, writing articles, yoga, almost all the time in Kyoto. The passion for good food stems from the obsession with good cooking for mothers, living alone abroad, and in order to satisfy the appetite of the original national dress, it is natural to think of its own recipe, and to return to the country, to pick food in the market, to be busy in the kitchen, to be photographed with a camera, to be the best way to relax in a busy state. How many people pick up their bags in the morning, put on their coats and drop off a "too late" line and rush the road? How many people pick up a box of rice from a delivery boy and just stomp on the computer? How many people in the eight or nine o'clock restaurant are groceries, and they're busy with their clients and they're thinking business, contracts? How long has it been since we had a good meal? I'm willing to squeeze out the time, take out the food that I like, pick out the cleaning, in between the blades, mistook them out of the appropriate shape, with a few ingredients, as appropriate, and in the conversion of the fire, cook over time, turn off the pot, and load the right discs, and then bring them to the table
