There are so many times when I wish for a knish, smeared with mustard, so hot the potato burns the roof of my mouth, but I can’t wait for it to cool down before I take another bite so I burn it again. I miss New York…
Telling tales from around the world
There are so many times when I wish for a knish, smeared with mustard, so hot the potato burns the roof of my mouth, but I can’t wait for it to cool down before I take another bite so I burn it again. I miss New York…