Hans Müller
The bread was dark and heavy, a whole loaf for the week. My father fetched it from the baker — the smell hung in the house all of Sunday.
◆ A recognition
They never met.
They shared this.
Describe the bread your family ate. The smell, the shape, who baked it.
Edith Brown
The bread was a great round loaf, baked twice a week in the wood-fired oven. The smell filled the whole cottage — it's what I remember most from my childhood.
Two voices. One memory. Recorded 0 days apart.