la rive gauche

2016 M. Plouzeau Château de la Bonnelière Chinon Rive Gauche Rosé

This is an organic and biodynamic rosé, b*tches! Ripe red and white strawberries, yumberry, hint of pencil wood, and cranberries on the nose. Similar on the palate with loads of red and white strawberries, a hint of cherries, and ripe cranberries. 

4/5 bones

$

Cabernet Franc

12.5% abv

Chinon (Loire), FRANCE

5

An illustration of Paris for my new niece’s bedroom. First of 2 : “Left Bank”, The right bank is to follow soon.

Une illustration de Paris pour la chambre de ma nièce. Premier volet de deux: la rive gauche. La rive droite suivra bientôt.

contact: me@christopherevans.info

Le Musée d'Orsay - Entrée - Grande horloge | by Osbern

Le musée d’Orsay est un musée national situé dans le 7ᵉ arrondissement de Paris, le long de la rive gauche de la Seine, inauguré en 1986 après le réaménagement de l'ancienne gare d'Orsay, construite par Victor Laloux de 1898 à 1900

[ lucien carr has just been on the most
wonderful adventure of his entire life.
he’s jet-lagged, and he’s hungry— but
most importantly, he’s home. 

paris had been an absolute dream. nelson
had told him that he could do anything, and
that’s exactly what he had done. throughout
the duration of his journey, lucien had climbed
all 674 steps of the eiffel tower (and had travelled
the rest of the way to the top via the elevator),
visited the louvre and the catacombs, sat on
the railing of the pont des arts at sunset (and
remained none the wiser to the love locks—
cadenas d’amour– that had been removed from
the bridge only a year prior), had travelled to the
southern side of the river, the side with the name
of dual meanings– la rive gauche– an earlier era
of parisian artists and writers like rimbaud and
miller and hemingway, as well as the simple name
for the southerly half of the seine. he had wandered
around the place de la bastille, and even managed
to fit in a meal of coffee and waffles with traditional
jams and homemade gingerbread at the café de
la paix
(yes, the café de la paix from the story that
he had read with andrew a mere month ago). he’d
even tried frog legs after having formed a drunken
wager with a stranger in a bar— the other man had
bet €20 that he wouldn’t have the courage to taste
the foreign meal. long story short, they really did
taste like chicken. he’d stayed up until the wee
hours of each morning and had talked about his
visions and ideas and writing in bars and on the
streets and had made conversation in broken french
with just about anyone who cared to listen to him.  

truth be told, he had been sorely tempted to just
stay in the city of light and love and freedom forever. 

deep down, though, he knew that he didn’t belong
there. he belongs here, in new york, with his (admittedly
not-so-shitty) job and his small room with it’s big view
and his fantastically irritating friends. if he was being
honest, he had to admit that he’d even missed a few
of them— andrew and harry in particular (though he
would never admit the latter). it had been a new concept—
yet spiritually necessary— to refrain from talking to them
during his trip, and he’s a little glad to finally be home
once more. 

rolling his suitcase into the house behind him, lu
immediately drops his keys onto the counter and
makes a beeline for the fridge. a quick glance at
the microwave tells him that it’s almost midnight,
so he only vaguely recognises the fact that he’s
behaving like an asshole as he fishes out a container
of pasta from the fridge and pushes it in through
the open door (there’s no metal inside this time—
he checked). he presses start, and watches the
container spin around on an axis for a few moments
before turning back towards his previously discarded
suitcase. the low hum of the microwave serves as an
underlying background noise while he busies himself
with taking his jacket off and throwing it over the
elongated handle of the suitcase. 

he hadn’t said goodbye to anyone before setting
out on his trip. he hadn’t even informed anyone
where he was going, which is why he begins to
wonder if anyone had actually realised if he had
been absent from the penthouse after waiting in
silence for another few moments. footsteps sounding
from behind him pull lucien from his thoughts, however,
and he turns with a start in order to try and catch a
glimpse of whoever has just stepped into the kitchen. ]