: Sold by a young boy on a snowy street corner, his gingerbreads cost only one cent apiece. Smiling warmly, he waves a small wooden cart providing freshly baked treats, the sweet, spicy cookies, sparkling in his eyes to passerbys. A man so neat, so precise, so expert with a jar of icing, that even the air he breaths smells of ginger and cinnamon, drawing people in, admiring his cookies, all packaged on shelves and displayed on deep shelves like little treasures to be adored.

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