|~ We Puertoricans
Finally in this western-oriented city, I found my favorite snack: the sweetened, dried, preserved, sour mango. I was so happy.
I went home and sit in our 'garden' of long, untrimmed grasses, enjoying the afternoon, eating my preserved mango pieces. Not for long; suddenly, out of nowhere, those cute neighbor kids were all around me asking to get the apples from the tree close to where I was sitting. I invited them into the house to eat the apples.
They went in, and I offered one of them my preserved mango. He looked at it, then looked at me, and said: