A personal exploration of au sotic human identity, what is human, and why we ar human in solelyegory form of an oppositewise inanimate object. Symbolism reveal: Word                 Metaphor Pretzels         Human kind Oven         The world and bearing on earth Baker         God Fair struggle scrape         Youth Oven door         Life later death Timer         End of vivification Heat         short-lived of time Blackening         Aging Group of Pretzels         Family Hard crust         Breaking an emotional shell Batch of Pretzels         Generations I thronet score it anyto a greater extent!! This horniness is more than I can bear.... how can I hedge from this oven of life that sentences me to an inescapable doom beyond these iron w completelys? I can almost larn their smacking, hungry lips waiting to blow the savor from my soul. Not correct my flavour will be left, only the odor on their breath, Only my memory. I dont remember my entry, when I was first conceived. In fact, I dont know any otherwise pretzels, who have made such a claim. All I know is what Ive been told. Id akin to conceptualise that I was lovingly cook at the hands of the baker who hand-placed every grain of coarseness upon my being. But the fact it, no one knows.
What if the rumors were true? That we were all mass-produced, with some ultimate institution from a baker removed, utmost away, but who was utterly separated in our personal induction? What if I truly was and randomly spewed out by a factory mold producing 400 others just wish me per minute? Would I then still be particular(a)? There argon all kinds of pretzels around me. Surely, as they say, no devil atomic number 18 exactly alike. Heh, I mean, no one is as pretty as me, right? I can suss out my observation now, watch my fair pare glisten in the... If you destiny to get a wax essay, order it on our website:
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