Pollen from the olive trees has left me reeling this morning as if I had been partying all night. I have not. But my head feels cotton filled, my eyes puffed. I am fugged and fuzzy from drugs that are meant to help but in reality, leave me floating through my kitchen as if on casters. I am a witness to my own existence. Outer bodied. I barely feel here.
I was completely swept away reading this and felt the warmth of sunnier days and the chill of a dull, dark London. You almost nearly turned me back into a red meat eater, it sounded delicious. A joy to read xx
You took me along as you prepared the meal. From quiet, warm climes (plus pollen), to noisy, dank and crowded, then back again. A great read, Louis and I imagine that the venison was cooked to a turn and presented beautifully!
A perfect hazy evocation. I remember it well!
I was completely swept away reading this and felt the warmth of sunnier days and the chill of a dull, dark London. You almost nearly turned me back into a red meat eater, it sounded delicious. A joy to read xx
Louis, you’ve done it again! A wonderful ghostly story full of memories, love, and delicious food. Well done! 🥰
You took me along as you prepared the meal. From quiet, warm climes (plus pollen), to noisy, dank and crowded, then back again. A great read, Louis and I imagine that the venison was cooked to a turn and presented beautifully!