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When the smell of spaghetti marinara wafts through the air I'm taken back to that little Italian restaurant outside our hotel in Singapore The dim yellow lighting, the maps of Italy hanging on the wall Me, my sister and my cousing sharing a large pizza, laughing over jokes My ice cubes almost completely melted in my lemonade glass I hear the sizzling from the pans in the open kitchen My aunt would always order the spaghetti marinara
By Samantha Hatten
poster yourself
Spaghetti Marinara
