Jo soc un bon casador i tinc una mascoto i es diu CASPA.
Quant vam arribar a casa teniem tanta fam que vam menjar tota la zebra i al final vam ixir a casar un altre vegada i vam casar
My daughter has watched me typing feverishly this morning as I try to finish Chapter Fifty-Six before either the creative juices dry up or I am needed elsewhere. She studied me for several seconds before asking what I was doing. She indicated that I was typing in English, and deduced that it was some kind of work but when told it was a novel, said "Ohhhh, a story. Yeah I do those." She then hopped on my lap and wrote the above, before skipping off to torment her sister with an electronic drumstick (effective when snapped close to someone's ear.)
I doubt that she has written in perfect Valenciano; even with my vague knowledge I can spot several minor errors. But it seems more likely that she will win the Booker Prize than I, since I have still not published a novel and I am now in my 44th year.
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