Death Row

 

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Lobsters at Reims’ Boulaingrain market, with only the hope of a coupe of champagne for company.

A paradox of Christmases past, present and future is the piles of poor, unknowing lobsters, blithely, unknowingly awaiting their fate.

Why must something so good seem so cruel? They looked lovely, and very fresh.

This time, I didn’t.

About matthewhayesbrognon

Wine Merchant
This entry was posted in VF - Pour encourager les autres. Bookmark the permalink.

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