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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473797" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Mixed Memory</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473797" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">A Mixed Memory </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473797" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">When mother made gateau for someone’s birthdays<br>I beat the cream using a steel whisker. Boring work <br>before the cream thickened and could be spread on<br>the cake, but it was worth it, as I got to lick bowl. <br>I thought of this as a tempest whipped the sea into<br>a froth. In the galley I had a mix-master and could<br>whisk up cream in no time, only I didn’t have the real<br>stuff, had to use condensed milk but I didn’t feel <br>inclined to lick its residue. The tempest blew into <br>storm, the ship was jumping about like an untrained<br>colt refusing to have a rider on its back. Life boats<br> smashed, ship railings too we only hoped she could <br>ride out the storm. In Hamburg I walked ashore and <br>ate a piece of Black Forest Gateau, awe-inspiring. <br>And to sit in a coffee shop that didn’t throw me off <br>my chair like demented colt.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Oskar+Hansen">Oskar Hansen</a></strong></div>