Mike ate Ed's lobster roll this weekend with one Tina D'luca. At the exact same moment, 460 miles south, I was enjoying my first, and, I imagine, mybest blackened tuna.
Somewhere, I'm certain, a butterfly was flapping its wings in Budapest and Mike and I transcended the space/time continuum to commune on a epicurean plane of nirvana.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
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