Category Archives: Le Maître de Frimousse

June

Nostalgia prohibited.

Nevertheless trees have grown, others have been felled. The heifers I can see grazing from our window are not the same as those I could see last year and the years before – those were turned into milk-producing machines and then into steak and roast beef. Plume died a year ago. Frimousse, RouXy and Tigri no longer come on the table when they smell the food they like. And my eyes have become much older.