"vendor" içeren İngilizce örnek cümleler

The ice cream vendor is waiting on customers at his outdoor stand.
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Before opening his diner, John was a simple hot dog vendor.
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I bought that from a street vendor.
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"Look but don't touch," says the fruit vendor.
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Sami was a food vendor.
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The attackers ordered the vendor to give them the money.
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One vendor outside a Milan railway station said he was selling the masks for $11 each.
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“I heard it’s people who eat mice who have this disease,” a vendor in her 20s told VOA.
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A vendor selling rice and beans said she washes her hands often, but noted that her clients may or may not do the same.
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Carlos Gavidia epitomizes the American dream. A Peruvian-born immigrant, he rose from Washington hot dog vendor to become the CEO of a financial services company.
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"Hey, Dennis, I have a stack of Chinese comics I bought off a street vendor." "Can you read them, Marko?" "I know some characters. I sort of get the gist of the stories."
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On a whim, she braked suddenly, stopping alongside the glittering waterfront, and bought a large ice-cream cone from an ice-cream vendor.
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The vendor weighs the cheese with copper scales.
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At a corner convenience store before midnight, I pick up a cold bottled green tea and a cream cheese pastry. At the counter is a lady vendor that I have seen before. She is wearing a pandemic mask. I ask, "Where are you from?" "Ethiopia," she answers. "Wow, that's why you don't look East Indian. The rest in this store are all East Indians. How long have you been in Canada?" "I've been here since January," she says. It is the 24th of October of 2021. I add, "You speak good English." "I went to an English school there in Ethiopia," she explains. "You speak English well," I reiterate. "Thank you!" she exclaims happily. Outside the store, on the other side of the street, is Mike the lonely old tubby Turk waiting at the bus stop. I see him often at that store.
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Rose, the Filipino vendor at the pizzeria here on Lulu Island, said that she might bring her kids to the haunted house at the winery for Halloween in 2021.
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There is not much fanfare here on Lulu Island this Halloween of 2021. It is rather quiet. The pizza vendor Rose said that she went with her family to the haunted house at the winery yesterday. It was very dark, she said.
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On a grey 5th of November of 2021, it was like a parade of handsome men. On a table just outside the pizzeria, I was munching on pizza, whilst a brown vendor at the market beyond was sorting fruits outside and greeting passersby. In the cafe, I was drinking my iced green tea. A muscular young man in a white shirt and blue jeans passed back and forth. Later, a muscular young man in a white shirt with grey pants sat at the far table near the washroom. Then walking back by the pizzeria, I saw a dark chunky man standing, talking to an older man.

On the night of the 6th of November of 2021, I trudged on wet pavement with fallen leaves to visit the pizzeria. I ordered two pieces from the South Asian vendor. As I ate at my table, a big fat white man sat waiting for his order. He whispered, "Chaaha! Chaaha!" to the Sikh pizza delivery man near the counter. The Punjabi word means desire, craving, love, tea, aspiration, fondness, etc. Which nuance was it?

Feeling a bit sedentary, I took my second walk in the morning of the 8th of November of 2021. By around 10:30, I was at the pizzeria. The pizza vendor was a chunky Hindu Sri Lankan. Then, at the cafe, I was drinking coffee-infused iced oat milk. A couple, both brown-haired, sat at the table across the room. The man in a green jacket, light brown pants, and grey garden clogs was in good shape. I wanted to see him nude. The woman was wearing a red scarf. He was reading a fat book, whilst she was using a tablet computer. A trio of Mandarin-speakers seated themselves at a table next to the couple. A muscular Arab man who was frequent at the cafe entered. Chris the half-English half-Japanese barista in a black shirt with the red-lettered word "PARIS" and in green pants entered.

Jashan the vendor at the sandwich eatery tells me that he is a Sikh from Punjab in India. He says that the majority in Punjab own agricultural land.

Luckily for Neo, there is a bubble tea vendor near the bathhouse.

It was Valentine's Day on the 14th of February of 2022, on Lulu Island. In the morning, I had pizza slices at the pizzeria, where Rose the Filipina was the regular vendor. In the afternoon, I drank black iced tea at the cafe, where I talked to my Anglo-Saxon neighbours Barb and Ken about travelling around this world, Mayan and Aztec pyramids in Mexico, the creole languages in the Caribbean, the otherworldly buildings in the Greek Islands, our common knowledge of prestigious French, and our experiences of the Pandemic, and then talked to Hans the Netherlander about the months-long adjustment phase of the new James Webb Space Telescope, the Jovian atmosphere with lightnings, artifacts of Ancient Egypt, lightning-made glass, and dinosaur bones. At the cafe, I noticed two different round-headed stocky men, who came in and out.

On the 10th of March of 2015, it is a walking day to a doctor's appointment. In the morning, I visit the local Roman Catholic worship centre. It is a brown mid-20th-century building. I gaze at a Mexican Santa María painting in the hallway. There are words in Spanish. The banners in the high-ceiling main chamber are purple, signifying support for Lojban and things Lojbanic, perhaps. By lunchtime, I am at the Richmond Public Market. I take the stairs up. First, I drink a plastic glass full of Sour Plum Bubble Iced Green Tea from a bubble tea vendor called Peanuts. Second, from the food vendor Captain Wa at a corner, I eat Noodles with Lemon Chicken, Tofu, Lotus Root Slices, as well as complimentary Hot Tea. Third, I drink a Starfruit Bubble Iced Green Tea from Peanuts, again. Fourth, having taken the escalator down, I buy a strange sinographic dictionary of a strange Asian Mainland tonal language. Fifth, having gone up the escalator, I drink a Mint Iced Tea from a bubble tea vendor called QQ Bubble Tea & Coffee. (The Q maybe is support for my Xoqolat.) The cold mint drink reminds me of my drinking mint at a café in Versailles in France, years ago. The Richmond Public Market is like a big garden atrium, as if in the middle of a tropical jungle. It is full of Kanjifolk.

On the 14th of April of 2015, I walk to the Richmond Public Market, I first climbing the stairs outside. Inside, the wide atrium-like building is like a garden in a jungle surrounding, I imagine. Already quite hungry, I trot to Captain Wa, the food vendor, to get noodles with squid, fish, and tofu, as well as hot tea. As I eat, a handsome First Nations man in a purple T-shirt walks by. Then a handsome, stocky Jewish fellow walks by. A few minutes later, I begin to thirst, so I get a cold Mint Bubble Green Tea at the vendor QQ Bubble Tea and Coffee. I sit by the stairs to sip. A threesome family sits eating nearby, the man being black, the woman being Oriental, and the child being a hybrid. Addicted to Bubble Tea, I get another one, this time at Peanut's. It is a cold Green Apple Bubble Green Tea. It is delicious. I take the escalator down. On my way to the washroom, I notice a big aquarium full of probably giant red Alaskan king crabs with barnacles on their legs. They remind me of extraterrestrials, somehow. At the bookstore, I buy a heavily illustrated green botany book in sinograms. I left it on top of a box a month ago and it is still there. It is $14. I take the escalator up. Addicted to Bubble Tea, I spend my remaining coins on a cold Lychee Bubble Green Tea. It is delicious with even bits of white lychee flesh.

Still trying to keep my day simple in the afternoon of the 26th of February of 2022, I headed to the pizzeria, and on the way were my Greek Cypriot neighbours Nikki the mother and George the son, who just recently took up smoking. I said that he could have taken up some other "habits." Then the conversation switched to the topic of Mexican cuisine and its hidden variety. I had pizza and diet black soda at the pizzeria, where there were some South Asians, as clients and vendor, as well as a Cockney-accented white man. Heading home, I saw Michael, who was from Francophone New Brunswick, as he smoked and promenaded on the sidewalk. He bowed to me, as I approached. I then showed him the Thai bowing greeting with pressed palms and said in Thai, "Sawatdee khrap!" Michael repeated it. He then said, "There are all sorts of cultures in the planet, eh?" Just then, two Sikhs walked by, one in black turban, the other in pink.

In the morning of the 27th of February of 2022, on my way out of my Lulu Island house, I saw my neighbours the redhead Rochelle of Russian-Mennonite ancestry and the grey-haired moustached Al from the Anglophone section of Montreal; he was from many generations of Canadians. He said that he did not know French, when he lived in Montreal. I ate a slice of pesto cheese pizza at the pizzeria. The vendor was from Mumbai. Through the window, I could see a young brown-blond-haired man in a dark-grey hooded jacket and blue shorts, which made him look like a "big boy." At the cafe, there was an under-age-30 crowd of ten outside, of whom one looked like a handsome Jew. Inside was a table of five or six over-age-30 people, of whom one was a handsome tomboy in a dark-green jacket and army-green pants. I drank my iced black tea. Heading out of the cafe, I saw the "big boy" smoking in the wooded park. I took the long route home, through the grassy school field littered with goose poop, the northern snowcapped mountains obscured by clouds, an Animistic-Buddhistic view seemingly of a different planet. Near my house, parked in a truck were Olivia and Daniel. Olivia was studying Biochemistry. In the back seat of the truck was a fully black German Shepherd.

On the 7th of March of 2022, I left my Lulu Island house around 10:10 in the morning to walk to the pizzeria, where I ate two pizza slices and drank cold black diet cola. The big screen television was blank. The place was silent. The vendor was an East Indian from Mumbai, not the usual Rose the Filipina, as it was the case on Mondays and Saturdays. As I was homebound, a mesomorphic man in black outpaced me, as he mumbled a song, of which language I was not certain.

On the 10th of March of 2022, I ate two pizza slices and drank iced tea at the Lulu Island pizzeria in the morning. The big screen showed Seattle news, but the sound was off, as usual. In the afternoon, I returned to the pizzeria to have a slice and an iced diet black cola. It was Seattle news, again, on the big screen, with sound off. Somewhat audible East Indian music was playing behind the counter. A boisterous corpulent East Indian man with his boy with a rocket-ship T-shirt ordered pizza. I walked to the cafe. At the cafe, I drank iced black tea. Behind the counter was Sebastian, the Mayan-Austrian hybrid. A big mesomorphic boy customer with something like a samurai hairdo entered. I had seen him before with his impressive meaty thighs, as he liked wearing shorts. Heading home, I observed through the window the new interesting products in the new Japanesque bakery with a bubble-tea vendor. I saw an elegant long bun with the price tag "$95"—or "$9.50"? Near the gasoline station, I saw the round-headed corpulent, but muscular man, who lived in a nearby apartment. I had seen him many times before, over the years, often with his little boy. He decried the ill sentiment in society: "They think sex is just poverty." In the alleyway, my Russian neighbour hastily passed by, whispering, "Everybody's just crying."

On the 25th of March of 2022, I was eating at the Lulu Island pizzeria, whilst Rose the Filipina vendor and a white lady customer, who was sitting at a corner table, talked about mortgages and vacations to the Philippines. They were yelling across the room. I went to the cafe, and on the way, I said hello to my Ukrainian friend Joanne. At the cafe, Karina the Russian made my iced black tea, which I drank. At home, on my Social Media, I watched Patrick Stewart's videos on Shakespeare sonnet readings, as I had been doing for some days. The videos were done in Southern California.

In the early morning of the 27th of March of 2022, I was not the usual pizza junkie. I drank iced black tea and ate barbecued potato chips at the Lulu Island cafe. Two noisy Cantonese men were present. Outside, near the park, I saw a large orange thermos in a shopping cart. Some were promoting the Orange Dream, the fantasy of an Oriental conlang. Walking on, I encountered the French-Canadian Alex with his friendly Chocolate Labrador, Ellie. I reminded myself that there was also the Chocolate Dream of a fantasy conlang. In the late morning, I went to the pizzeria to eat two slices and drink a cold diet cola. I found out that Rose, the Filipina vendor, was about 9 or 10 years younger than me, so she alerted me that I should not use the Tagalog "po" reverential grammatical particle to her. My third walk took me to the pizzeria in the evening. I was drinking just cold diet cola, as I was watching the 94th Oscars on the big screen with sound off. Three young Filipinas came in to order. Later, I peeked into the new Japanesque SunTea Bakery, and the Purple Yam Mochi Soft Bread, selling at "9.5" Canadian dollars each, intrigued me. I might try it someday. The vendors spoke Mandarin.

Late at night on the 23rd of July of 2022, Simar the young pizza vendor said that he was born in 2002. "Born in the 21st century!" I exclaimed. He kept enquiring why I didn't have a girlfriend or why I didn't get married. I explained that I liked being like a "Buddhist monk." I liked my freedom and independence. I didn't believe in bringing children into this world of dissatisfaction. I said that some people wanted children as a kind of "fake" immortality. Personality forms from both genes and environment, so even a clone brother would eventually have a different personality. Simar said that in the eastern part India, there were many Buddhists. I said that I knew a bit of Indian history, in that at one time, India was mostly Buddhist, but later, Hinduism reabsorbed Buddhism, and Hinduism became dominant once again. Simar was interested that I had been a software engineer in three different countries. Simar never tried the fruit durian, which I explained had a controversial odour, but was a luxury fruit of buttery texture to Orientals.

I went to Bali for temple-gazing, as I was an aspiring amateur archeologist. Also, I had an interest in indigenous languages like Indonesian and Balinese. I looked there for Balinese linguistics books, but to no avail. There were craftsmen, though, who sold Balinese calligraphy written on bamboo or paper. I knew that the carvings and objects in the temples had esoteric meanings, but only experts knew. I enjoyed eating exotic tropical fruits in Bali, as I first tried the "salak" snake fruit. Bali was a Hindu oasis in the largely Muslim country of Indonesia. In a souvenir shop, I met a lady vendor who had an interest in Buddhism. I befriended a hotel worker named Made Budi Artawan, and I had an avocado shake with him in a cafe near my hotel.

Mark tried to steal a hot dog from a street vendor.

Elias joined with a neighbor to become a street vendor.

The street vendor sold hot dogs and soda.

Where is the vendor?

Mary bought a handmade necklace from a local vendor.

I talked to Greg the Filipino this morning in Starbucks café. Greg was drinking Mocha and I a Passion Tango iced tea. I saw that seemingly "Greek" muscleman again, in and out of the café with his coffee. "Ang laki! (So big!)," I said to Greg. His body is like a Greek god sculpture. (I am not really sure if he is Greek, but I heard him talking in his cellphone in a language that sounded Greek to me.) I took my second walk in the grey-sky morning: At Yummy Slice pizzeria, Sachet the Gujarati vendor and Tharsan the Sri Lankan owner were there, as I was drinking my grey-can Diet Coke. At the Subway sandwitcheria, I got a Turkey Ranch "Snackwich" with spinach, tomatoes, fried onions, cucumbers, and honey mustard sauce. Simran the Punjabi Sikh was my vendor. She talked about the coming Lohri Festival in January for Punjabis. It has to do with celebrating with bonfires and honouring childbirth. I greeted Don the head-shaven white man at Starbucks café, where I was eating almonds. Today is the 9th of December of 2024.

In the cloudy, yet sunny, afternoon was my third walk of the day, here on Lulu Island. I was at Yummy Slice pizzeria to drink a grey-can Diet Coke. I exercised with my hand grip strengthener at my table. Sachet the Gujarati and Navjot the Punjabi were the vendors. There were throngs of parents with their Eurasian kids, eating or ordering pizza. I visited Kin's Farm Market. The radio was playing Xmas songs. Leo, the Cantonese vendor who speaks also Mandarin, exclaimed, "Viktor, bā bái!" The fragrance of baked Japanese sweet potato, "yaki-imo" in Japanese, "rostita batato" in Esperanto, was tempting. There was a metallic rectangular oven with heated stones inside. The colourful fruits enthralled me. The durian was still so dear! Today is the 9th of December of 2024.

Happy Zamenhof Day! Today is the birthday of Dr. L.L. Zamenhof, the Jew who invented Esperanto in 1887 in Russian-occupied Poland. I am an Esperantist. It is a sunny blue-sky morning. I walked to Yummy Slice pizzeria. Rose the Filipina vendor was there. I was drinking a red-can Coca-Cola Zero Sugar. (I ought to mention that I ate a slice of green pesto pizza. And I was exercising with my hand grip strengthener at my table.) A Japanese likens my situation to a vast deserted café in Chiangmai, Thailand. But here on Lulu Island, homebound, I stopped by Kin's Farm fruteria. Leo, the Cantonese vendor who speaks also Mandarin, exclaimed, "Dà míng!" There were longans, kumquats, and jujubes in plastic bags at the front. Today is the 15th of December of 2024.

This winter has been warmer than usual, so far, without snow, here on Lulu Island. In the morning, this 27th of December of 2024, I walked twice to Tim Hortons: Firstly, I ate two hash browns with an oat milk iced coffee. Secondly, I ate a sausage egg English muffin meal, including a hash brown and oat milk iced coffee. I went to Starbucks for an oat nog latte. I missed Greg, my Filipino friend, who left just before me. Then, I went to Yummy Slice pizzeria for a red-can Coca-Cola Zero Sugar. The Filipina vendor Rose was there, so we said "Happy New Year" to each other. I passed by Kin's Farm fruteria. On my way home, in the park's alleyway, I met and talked with my ufologist friend, Michael J., a Dane-French. He amused himself with the red touque on my head, with orange letters in Tagalog: "MGA AWSTRALYA ANG MGA ESTRELYA" (The stars are Australias). I told him it was about "space colonization." There are the cold and hot deserts of other worlds. Then, I went to the house of my "auntie" neighbour, Tita Zeny, to pick up her homemade "dinuguán" or Filipino pork blood stew to bring home. Lunch at home would include Filipino chicken "adobo."

In the evening, I returned to Tim Hortons to eat what was becoming my usual: two hash browns and an oat milk iced coffee. I should, maybe, go back to croissants, sometime. There were Sinospheric customers. There was a robust East Indian customer in a corner. One South Asian vendor commented, "Viktor is still like an embryo!" At home, I listened to a radio app on my tablet: Zouk Hits, Southeast Asia Psychedelics, Baroque, etc. It was the 27th of December of 2024.

Today is the 14th of January of 2025. It was night at Time Hortons café. I ate Sea Salt Potato Wedges with Wildberry Hibiscus Lemonade Quencher. Joban the South Asian was my vendor. In the morning, I had a couple or more cups of Green Tea with Oat Milk, which, someone expressed, "tastes like ice cream." It was night at Starbucks café. I ate two Belgian Liège Waffles. The Brown Sugar Oat Cortado interestingly tasted like jackfruit. I was going to tell the Japanese-Anglo hybrid Chris the barista or Jess the Anglo barista. Money is just an inhibitor, sometimes. Money is poverty, sometimes. Life should always be sensual, a sensory wonderland. Life is ephemeral, full of fleeting experiences. Do I believe in the Akashic Records, the memory compendium about everything? The following day of the 15th, I saw Hans the Netherlander in his motorized wheelchair at Tim Hortons. We sat near the sun-drenched bay window, as we chatted and ate Sea Salt Potato Wedges. I was drinking Orange Pekoe tea with Oat Milk for a change.

Ali's grandfather is a tea vendor.

I woke up early today. I started my café-hopping here on Lulu Island just after 5 in the night-like morning. I walked to Tim Hortons to have a Green Tea with Oat Milk and a Sausage Egg Cheese English Muffin. Pushpak the South Asian vendor was not there today. I was the only customer in the vast chamber. Then, I walked to Starbucks. My baristas were Nicole the Filipina and Jessica the Vietnamese. I was drinking a Brown Sugar Oat Cortado that comes in a cute, little ceramic mug. It tasted like jackfruit to me. Jessica from afar whispered loudly and solemnly, "Richmond is not like Asia." A regular, a big white man with white hair, sat with his tablet computer at a table near the washrooms. I thought that he was playing games on it. It was the 23rd of January of 2025.

Later in the morning, before 10, I returned to Tim Hortons. I walked as I usually did. At a corner of a long table with a graphic of an ice hockey rink, I was eating an Herb and Garlic Pastry whilst drinking a Specialty Chai Tea with Oat Milk. Pushpak the South Asian vendor was there, then. I saw my friend Leo the Filipino with a big bag of groceries for "two weeks' worth." He said that he still ate Filipino-style, despite being here in "the Great White North." There was a dark-haired technical man with a strange Euro-like accent using a sophisticated ultramodern rotating black camera on a tripod for taking "measurements for insurance." He mentioned the word "lighter." At home, I listened to music from a radio app on my tablet: Happy '70s, '80s & '90s Pop Rock, House: Deep to Future, Baroque, Zouk Hits, and Southeast Asia Psychedelics. I was earlier today making contributions to articles in the Tagalog Wikipedia. It was the 23rd of January of 2025.

The snowfall renewed its vigour this morning of the 3rd of February of 2025, here on Lulu Island. I trudged in the white snow with my dark blue boots, as if I were on a strange alien world. In the morning, at Tim Hortons café, I was drinking an Earl Grey tea with oat milk. (Earl Grey was Captain Picard's favourite.) I was eating an herb and garlic pastry. On my return to that café in the afternoon, I was drinking a peppermint tea with oat milk. I was eating a croissant. Rikku the Indian was my vendor. I was conversing with Gary the Cantonese. He was wearing a black jacket, green camouflage Vietnamese military pants, and brown boots. He was thinking of his return to Vietnam for vacationing: Ho Chi Minh City, Da Nang, and so on. He was thinking of his Vietnamese girlfriend there. He also was looking for another roommate for his hardwood-floor, marble-counter abode, here on Lulu Island. His roommates take care of his place, whilst being away for months at a time.

There are still several centimetres of snow left on the ground, here on Lulu Island, this 4th of February of 2025. At home with the view of the bluish grey sky through my bedroom window, I reviewed my Chabacano, Philippine Creole Spanish, on my tablet. I perused a printed book about it, yesterday. I would give myself three stars out of five stars total for my Chabacano skills. I can read it quite well. I like that Chabacano has no verbal conjugation, but just has aspect markers, unlike Spanish. I assign the colour beige to Chabacano. I opine that more people should know it. I trudged in the snow going to Tim Hortons, once in the morning and once in the afternoon. In the morning were Earl Grey tea with oat milk and a roast beef Craveable sandwich. (Earl Grey was Captain Picard's favourite.) In the afternoon was an iced coffee with oat milk and cane sugar. Gurpreet the Indian was the vendor. Corpulent Dominic and his daughter Fiel, Filipinos, were sitting near the bay window overlooking the snowy street. I saw in passing Gary the Cantonese in green camouflage Vietnamese military pants, as I exited the washroom and eventually the café itself. For lunch at home, I had spaghetti with Mexican banana chips and a glass mug of hot lime water. Yesterday, Gary and I discussed horseback riding. I tried it, but I could not control the horse well. Gary lived in earlier years near North Vancouver's stables. He preferred motorcycling, as in Vietnam. I said that I was too "klutzy" for such.

"16" reminds me of the 16 Basic Rules of Esperanto Grammar, as today is the 16th of April of 2025. Esperanto is more popular in places like Brazil, China, Indonesia, Korea, Congo-Kinshasa, and others. Around 6 in the morning, I brought my lime green sack with a green lizard illustrated thereon. Therein, I usually carry my Esperanto book, Tra Lando de Indianoj, by Tibor Sekelj, about life in Native Indian territory in the Brazilian Amazon jungle. I read it in the cafés. Firstly, I was at Tim Hortons café here on Lulu Island to drink Earl Grey tea with oat milk and eat a sausage English muffin. Gurpreet the Punjabi woman was my vendor. Then I walked to Starbucks café to drink steamed oat milk in a white ceramic mug. Jam the Filipino was my barista, and Jessica the petite Vietnamese was my vendor. For early lunch at home, I ate chicken and fried spring rolls with noodles and drank hot lime water on my sunny verandah. Later, after 11 in the morning, it was my second walk of the day. I was then at Tim Hortons café to drink another Earl Grey with oat milk. Rajvinder the Punjabi lady who has a similar profile to my cousin Myra in the Philippines was my vendor. Gary the Cantonese fan of Vietnam was in the hall. It was sunny outside, with blue sky, but with a bit of chilly wind.

This 17th of April of 2025, I walked to Lulu Island's Tim Hortons café, early morning, after 5, there to enjoy an Earl Grey tea with oat milk and a sausage English muffin. The vendor was Sukhman, the elegant Punjabi lady. A big white man with tattoos on his legs was standing by the till. He was wearing a black and blue checkered shirt. Ken, also a big white man, but with white hair, sat in his usual corner. It was still dark sky outside the bay windows. Jack the Chinese man in a brown jacket rendezvoused for his coffee. Before 10, with sunny weather, I walked back to Tim Hortons café this time to enjoy a Chai tea with oat milk and a croissant. The vendor was Rikku, the affable Punjabi lady. Gary, my Cantonese friend, a fan of Vietnam, sat at the long table etched with lines of an ice hockey rink. He was wearing a black leather jacket and green camouflage Vietnamese military pants. On my way home, I met Michael L. J., my Dane-French ufologist friend. And he showed me on his cellphone another video of mysterious lights in his bedroom; he attributes them to extraterrestrials. I kept to myself my thought about the Zoo Hypothesis. For lunch at home, on my sunny verandah, I ate barbecue pork on a bed of salad with red-tinted rice. Afterwards, I was eating a Tohato-brand matcha-flavoured Japanese Caramel Corn snack from a green plastic bag. Mama has Chef Tony Buns with Egg Yolk Lava in the freezer. They are black on the outside, I think, because of charcoal or something.