Eating a tomato soup made her more sentimental, as if there was a whole history
of shared meals with her family in that single bowl.
She couldn't deny who she was and from where she came from, as soon as her tongue got used to the richness of her country taste. The weirdness of cuisine and the specifics of character defined her and reached her bottom, which she couldn't discover without knowing what ground has shaped her body and a soul.
The day she went she could only see a fraction of her father's despair in his eyes full of love and pride. She couldn't feel more puzzled with  all the sour-sweet emotions, but the train has already started, and the image of her father, standing straight on the platform number three trying to smile while waving his hand, was moving away. (...)