Sometimes it grows too fast at the wrong time. Or at the wrong place.
Like in my car.
And sometimes it explodes.
Luckily NOT in my car. Yet.
Anders was not used to living so closed to the sourdough. We had to stop from time to time as he felt a bit sick. I sat down and waited for him to catch his breath.
3 Comments on “It is not always glamourous to travel with sourdoughs.”
Hach Malin!
Jupp Eva. This is reality. Uncensured.
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