Sweet Gilles.

Sweet Gilles.


Bonsoir, mes amies! I wanted to show you a picture of my son, Gilles. He’s whittling a tiny flute right now and getting ready to whip up a pot of mussels.

The thing I love about all French children is their adoration for multi-layered wool frocks and perfectly pressed cotton shirts. And bow ties. Gilles loves bow ties. He also loves whiling away the time at cafes. I think I took this picture after we had just spent six hours at Les Deux Margots, reminiscing about Art Nouveau hyperbolas. He wanted to stay longer, but Poutine needed a stroll.

Have you met Poutine? Gustave named him. Which is unfortunate because, Poutine. Checkered flags are for Nascar. Gravy is something requested by lumberjacks who need a bathroom nearby. Only Quebec could come up with this thing.

Must be off, loves! The mussels need scrubbing.


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