Monday, 9 April 2012

Irresistable Lasagne by Arianna (Amy's Level 9)

     And here we are, in a quaint tiny town among the mountains, at my grandmother’s house, where my family and I spend every summer holiday. As usual, I’ve just had my breakfast and run out to play with a gang of rowdy children.
The alley is our land, where cars and adults aren’t allowed; it has the taste of freedom, for a long time desired during those boring and grey days among the desks at school.
     It’s midday, from the windows many smells of tasty and mouthwatering dishes reach our noses. Most of my playmates are coming back home, I remain (playing isn’t ever enough) with Renato. Some minutes later his mum, a short smiling chubby woman in her apron, invites us to come up for lunch.
     As in the tale “The Pied Piper”, I follow that incredibly appetizing heady scent. Lasagne, she’s made lasagne, I can’t believe it. On an ordinary Wednesday she’s made lasagne, a dish that at my home is made only for special occasions. In a moment I unbelievably forget my family. I’m delighted. Morsel after morsel I’m brought to paradise, by this creamy, smooth dish.
     Only in the afternoon, with my mouth still smeared with lasagne, I come back home, where my mother has been waiting for me in tears. Her happiness lasts only a moment, only the time to be aware of my safety. Suddenly it turns to fury, but it doesn’t matter, the pleasure of eating lasagne is still in my mouth.

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