“The House On Mango Street” is an interesting book. You can really feel like you are the main character. The sentences are short and easy to understand, especially giving you a deep understanding of different cultures.
Everyone in my family owns very different hairstyles. Daddy’s hair is like a broom, it just stands up. As for me, my head style doesn’t know how to describe it except for two silly words. It doesn’t follow any rules or orders. Meanwhile, Carlos’s hair is thin and straight, which makes it no longer necessary to brush his hair. My Nenny’s hair is even better, they’re always smooth and soft like the wind blowing right in the palm of my hand. And the youngest baby in the family, KiKi, possessed a short hair that looked like a fluff of fuzzy hair.
And my mom’s hair, my mother’s hair, like there’s a little forest of flowers up there, it’s like a plump, sweet, high and pretty sweet candy because she works so hard in her hair day. How sweet it is when you can touch your nose every time she hugs you and gives you a hug and then you will feel the peace, the warm bread smell before you bake them, they smell the scent that you feel when she’s chained out a bit so that you can lie beside her, there is still some warmth from her body, you lie there, next to her, it’s still raining outside, mixed in with the sound snoring still rang steadily of his father. Snoring, the sound of rain and the smell of bread in her mother’s hair.
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