This is not a treasure hunt. This is not Gilligan's Island. Well, the hills, valleys, the great gulf are all reminiscent of something, some Shangri-La* perhaps. But then, right next to the oil well is The Slough of Despond. The puzzle of naming. Is it better not naming the chasm of desire?

François tried to read the story but the juicy parts had been cut out. I tried to see his etchings-dry point-but the line was too long. Lovely, venous petals, lady-slipper black monbazo. An exotic serpent with prominent bouche. Deep and purple. The most dangerous color in the English language.

• Boucher: the butcher.
• Bouche: (f.) mouth.
• Cela fait venir l'eau à la bouche: yum, yum.
• Croquembouche: caramelized cream puffs
• Boucher: French artist, 18th Century.
• De bouche: by word of mouth.
• Fermez la bouche!: Shut up!

  

• Boucher: to shut up.
• Trompette bouchée: muted trumpet.
• Bouche-bouteille: corking-machine.
• Boucher: (fig.) a slaughter, massacre.
• Boucher: to obstruct a passage to India.
• Frotter un cheval avec un bouchon de paille: to rub down a horse with a wisp of straw.

*Shangri-La: Mythical place where bombing raids began over Tokyo.

Where are you going with this? François asked. I'm leaving Paris. I'm putting my jewels in a pouch; I'm taking the night train to Nice. Come with me to the Rivièra, the light's good there. Maybe a little bouche-à-bouche on the beach. Everything's better in the South. Everything. I'll be your lady-slipper, your Brenda Starr. Better....

"Why are you so pissed off?" Maybe it's the four young women (attractive, intelligent looking women) new gallery owners in NY featured in Vogue surrounded by male art (There was half an Ellen Gallagher, and, in the text, a few women were mentioned.) "Who reads Vogue?" I do. I like all those sexy clothes. "Aren't you the bundle of contradictions?" No, I like guys, I just don't like being ignored when I'm good. "Is this a rant?" Umm, a very civilized rant. Boucher, Boucher, Boucher. Try the freeze dried. I did and it worked!