it's funny, my friend who's apt i'm crashing at for a month has the same rice-cooker that i bought for my parents 5 years ago when we all lived in flushing.
i haven't lived in a house with a rice-cooker since i left home, and for some reason, every time i open the rice-cooker here at my friend's apt, the familiar motion, sound and look of the cooker makes me feel like i'm in flushing again. i look around me for a split second, thinking that juju's going to run up to me to beg for food, but then i realize i'm just having a moment.
that makes me kinda sad.
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