<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Foodscraps on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/foodscraps/</link><description>Recent content in Foodscraps on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Mon, 12 Nov 2012 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/foodscraps/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Scout Camp</title><link>/stories/2012/11/12/scout-camp/</link><pubDate>Mon, 12 Nov 2012 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2012/11/12/scout-camp/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;continued from &lt;a href="../storieslr/mariespendingadayinabin.html"&gt;Marie Spending a Day in a Bin&lt;/a&gt; &amp;amp; &lt;a href="../storiesek/humangarbage.html"&gt;Human Garbage&lt;/a&gt;
The Letter&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The letter arrived on a thursday, but Marie didn&amp;rsquo;t notice it before friday. And it sure didn&amp;rsquo;t advertise itself - just a simple, white envelope with her name and address in front. No sender. The stamp was ordinary and the post office had marked it a few days before. Now of course a letter wasn&amp;rsquo;t a big deal in itself, but Marie didn&amp;rsquo;t receive many letters. After her father had died last year, she hadn&amp;rsquo;t received any letters at all! That is - of course she had bills and other kinds of official letters, but nothing like this. She drank a cup of coffee while letting the anticipation grow.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>