I was born in Beirut in…(19)43. We lived with my cousin’s family. We lived in a house with five bedrooms. Above us, there was another house (apartment) with five or six rooms. But every room had one family in it. And in this way, there were many houses (apartments) with several rooms (sharing) one kitchen, and how did they live? They lived very well. Now, one…started at 10 o’clock for example, another at 9 o'clock. There was also only one bathroom. In the common area of the floor. When I was born, the first three-four years, maybe until I was nine years old, there was no refrigerator, no gas…no refrigerator, no gas…no washing machine, no dishwasher, no oven. How did they live? We were…my mother would sometimes ask us, me and my sisters, two kids before me, to knead the dough for the bread. And…then they would roll it at home, they would make the loaf, like pita. They would make a loaf and put it on big trays, like this table you saw. They put…if we said six seven scoops. Then, on a white sheet…(they put a bit of) flour and shake it again and again until […]. They would make bread twice a week. And sent it to the oven, the Arabic oven. They would designate every one, every plate, which family (it belonged to) and how many loaves. Many times, […] if we sent 40 loaves, 38 would return, or 37. As in, from every plate, the person running the community oven would take one or take two.