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I looked with love at the lineup of waiting trays鈥攖he white paper napkins, folded in their crisp, isosceles triangles, each under the anchor of its silver fork, the pale domes of soft boiled eggs in the blue egg cups, the scalloped glass shells of orange marmalade.
Sylvia Plath, 1963
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Eating ice cream in a cocktail glass with a tiny spoon
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