We all get hungry, even on the moon.
There I was again, shoving a scone in my face, a piroshky melting in my mouth, wondering if I'd washed my hands after petting those goats. All while gazing longingly at the elephant ears strolling past carried by eager hands who at that point would probably do anything their owner's mouths asked, including reaching into their wallets to purchase more fat and sugar-filled delectable morsels of fair food.
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