Le Vainqueur Rancé 1795 Eau de Parfum

Do you remember - last year, the big old house at the edge of the village - the cliffs right behind the Swiss pines? How wonderfully cool it was inside on the uneven tiles - even in the early afternoon when the landscape shimmered in the heat outside? And the stairs in the whitewashed hall with the faded carpets? Do you remember?

Do you recall the little well house at the back of the garden, almost hidden under the bougainvillea? And the wall where we always sat in the evenings, with lizards living in its cracks? Do you remember how we ate tomatoes with oil and bread and onions - and how you showed me how good anchovies tasted with it? And the red wine we always drank with it - do you remember?

Do you remember how we argued the whole way back from the beach - and how the farmer stopped his tractor by us because he was worried? And how we both cried when we finally hugged - and then sat on the terrace for hours? Do you remember how warm the tiles were until well after midnight - and how you told me that you were happy?

Do you also remember how that summer smelled? Of citrus fruits and cool melon, just a little - and only briefly. Of wild thyme and maquis, of lavender and dry, bitter warm wood. Of bread and green oil and the herbs in the cracks of the wall, where no lizards lived. Of your skin and also of mine - do you remember that?

Conclusion: the old house and the low wall with the lizards. Fruits, wine and oil and moon and sun and the cliffs right behind the Swiss pines - do you remember?