“I lost my only son to a disease. He will never return. My tears haven’t stopped. You came, you are also my son. Come, follow me, take some Perilla seeds home. They make good pickles.” (Ama, Laprak, Gorkha)
“I lost my only son to a disease. He will never return. My tears haven’t stopped. You came, you are also my son. Come, follow me, take some Perilla seeds home. They make good pickles.” (Ama, Laprak, Gorkha)
