We neither bake so well nor cut bread in neat slices because we are genteel; we are genteel because there is bread to bake and cut.
Cutting bread into imperfect perfect slices was part of the rhythm of the day, the routine that gave us a feeling peace in our home.
Cutting the bread brought a rhythmic ease to the air, for it was aroma and sound combined with the promise of nurturing goodness to come.
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