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A Midsummer Night's Dream

When I think of Chablis, it makes me thirsty. So I close my eyes and I imagine a potbellied bottle with its fussy golden signature as round and generous as Burgundy itself. I see the cold mist formed on the wall of the glass. I try to catch the most subtle green reflexions of this bright golden colour. These shades of green are for Chablis wine what its feathers are for the peacock: a way to be distinguished from the other birds or a way to dazzle their eyes?

Peter Schwarz