It still amazes me to think that I lived through a time when this fruit served as the sole source of sustenance for many families. It is truly staggering what we Venezuelans have had to endure, but I like to believe that many of us learned a profound life lesson from those years. Another thing that strikes me about this post is the realization that what we consider normal here—something that grows in every nook and cranny—is a luxury in other parts of the world, or simply doesn't possess the same flavor. How incredible! I absolutely loved your post; dedicating a poem to them was such an original idea. Great work my friend. Sending you a big hug from Caracas! 🙏
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Tienes razón amigo, es un lujo en otras partes del mundo Aquí casi no se consigue el de hilacha, porque las mangas esas grandes y jugosas las hay casi siemre. Pero no es igual no, no no. Te cuento que cuando hubo la hambruna aquella... Mamá no podía disfrutar de sus mangos, a menos que se le adelantara a la turba que llegaba en la madrugada casi a oscuras al fondo de su casa, armados con carretillas. Esas son cinco matas que cargan una bararidad. Gracias a Dios que esa partecita ya se suprró. Esperemos que se arregle el resto. Gracias por tu gentil visita @jesuslnrs. Saludos y cariños.😍
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¡Gracias, @friendlymoose!😍 🗣🤗