I don’t like licorice. It tastes weird, also it’s sticky and doesn’t look nice. In the subway station next to my apartment, there is a small stand selling it. When I’m not traveling, I pass it every day.
What I love about it is the smell, that tells me: you’ve made it, you’re home. Coming home from a great party? Licorice. Coming back from an endless feeling trip? Licorice. And the best part: stumbling over a market anywhere in the world where someone sells licorice: Home.
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