When my mother asks me to open my eyes and smile for a picture, this is what I do. Clearly we have a misunderstanding. Here I am at Smaka restaurant in Gothenburg about to watch my parents eat swedish meatballs. I will not eat them though. I will even get mad when a dot of parsley touches the side of my plate. Instead I will eat lots of bread, butter and mashed potatoes. That's just my style.
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