Vegetables · 14 March 2002
We were crossing by car over the hills to the South, on the way back from the gardening shop of yuppie dreams, carrying 150 kilos of shit destined to fertilize the soil that was made arable by Noël – who is on the board of the wine co-op – in barter for the design of some labels (subsequently revised when the bureaucrats got involved), when something remarkable happened with the clouds.
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