In the morning of the 5th of March of 2022, I ate at the pizzeria and drank iced black tea at the cafe, where Rob with now long brown hair, with a black sweater and orange worker pants, entered to greet me and Don, sitting at separate tables. A brown man in a white T-shirt and sleeveless black vest came to get coffee, his muscular arms writhing. I spent a minute in the woods. As I approached my house, I waved to Derek my Filipino neighbour in a green tracksuit, his mesomorphic silhouette showing. In the sunny afternoon, going back to the pizzeria, I saw, on the other side of the main road, a whole Jewish family with children, all wearing Sabbath synagogue attire. I waved to Gurpreet the Sikh at the gasoline station. At the pizzeria's front, a thickset bicyclist in black parked and locked his bicycle. I ate a pizza slice and drank a cold diet cola. Northbound, homebound, I could see the snowcapped mountains. Near my home, I waved to my Fijian multiracial neighbours, the grandson Darius and his grandmother Moli, whose name meant "orange" in Fijian.
Source: tatoeba (10704558)
On the 7th of March of 2022, I left my Lulu Island house around 10:10 in the morning to walk to the pizzeria, where I ate two pizza slices and drank cold black diet cola. The big screen television was blank. The place was silent. The vendor was an East Indian from Mumbai, not the usual Rose the Filipina, as it was the case on Mondays and Saturdays. As I was homebound, a mesomorphic man in black outpaced me, as he mumbled a song, of which language I was not certain.
Source: tatoeba (10708271)
On the 10th of March of 2022, I ate two pizza slices and drank iced tea at the Lulu Island pizzeria in the morning. The big screen showed Seattle news, but the sound was off, as usual. In the afternoon, I returned to the pizzeria to have a slice and an iced diet black cola. It was Seattle news, again, on the big screen, with sound off. Somewhat audible East Indian music was playing behind the counter. A boisterous corpulent East Indian man with his boy with a rocket-ship T-shirt ordered pizza. I walked to the cafe. At the cafe, I drank iced black tea. Behind the counter was Sebastian, the Mayan-Austrian hybrid. A big mesomorphic boy customer with something like a samurai hairdo entered. I had seen him before with his impressive meaty thighs, as he liked wearing shorts. Heading home, I observed through the window the new interesting products in the new Japanesque bakery with a bubble-tea vendor. I saw an elegant long bun with the price tag "$95"—or "$9.50"? Near the gasoline station, I saw the round-headed corpulent, but muscular man, who lived in a nearby apartment. I had seen him many times before, over the years, often with his little boy. He decried the ill sentiment in society: "They think sex is just poverty." In the alleyway, my Russian neighbour hastily passed by, whispering, "Everybody's just crying."
Source: tatoeba (10712760)
For instance, compared to the typical ectomorphic or endomorphic child, the mesomorphic boy or girl may have more energy and a greater motivation for vigorous play with peers.
Source: wiktionary
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