There is nothing about the drive to Bougogne that isn’t, in its own way, picturesque and captivating. Between Milan and “nowhere in particular” in the middle of France, there is one beautiful sight after another. Castles. Alps. Amazing tunnels. Valleys. Grasslands. Herds of cows. Ancient towns. Chateaus. Cut cut cut, like a well-edited film. No time to tire of monotony, because the next major feature is just beyond the curve in the road. And yet, the drive can get long. So when we turn off the French expressway, at long last, onto the “side” road that takes us to our destination, I feel a certain Pavlovian-Proustian-Whatever-You-Want-To-Call-It joy with every bump, pothole and badly engineered twist of the road. We’re here!
What is it?The Daily Cure for me is trying to smell taste touch—really experience— something, each day, that reminds me that I'm alive and, mostly, happy to be here. A small moment that should go a long way, at least in theory.
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