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16 April 2009 One Comment

Restless on the eve of the equinox, the solider stumbled in the in the snow and encountered the great rabbit, Peter. He aimed his rifle straight on and the rabbit feigned surprise, pulled his ears back and rolled his eyes. He let the solider tie him up and bring him back to the barracks. The regime stared at him all night in the barracks as they played cards and toasted to their wives and lovers. Peter thought of his burrow, fresh watercress and lolling about the great meadows.  Early in the morning, as the other soldiers lay listless, Joan Fontaine whining in the background, Sidley, with the lazy eye, gave him a bite of cornbread and a sip of stale gin. Peter opened his eyes and jumped through his ropes and hopped out of the base, a haggard sergeant with a hangover skipping after him.

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One Comment »

  • Priscila said:

    Oh dear, how silly of me. I know I’m in the minority in this, but I diifnetely think perfume is artisanal, rather than art, just the way that Carine Gilson lingerie, Manolo Blahnik, NARS, and Lanvin are exemplars of artisanship, not lesser but different, since you must live with them and pay for them. I understand why people like to think of perfume as an art; it’s to assert that this ought to be taken seriously, but IMHO to know that a consumer product I have bought is quality craftsmanship, either in design or material, is reason enough to respect it. When I buy something like that, whether it’s a dress or an eyeshadow, I like that feeling that someone, someone human, was responsible for the product I hold in my hands. That it wasn’t mass-produced or market-researched, and that’s very special and luxurious in this day and age, and to call it artisanship, I don’t think, is to disrespect it.This may just be nitpicking definitions, however. I’m sorry to have rambled so much on your blog.