Butter But No Spatula
I’ve lived in Mexico City for a couple weeks now, and I’m in that weird in-between place where some things feel easy and others still make no sense at all. But the weather is perfect, the garbage truck rings a bell. and there's a guy on a bike with a whistle who will sharpen your knives. And I'm going to stop reading the news, because knowledge isn't power and none of it makes sense anyway.
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The skinny
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