Such a perfect spot to have lunch, and another bifta. I don't think the rest of the tourists with us were pleased that all the guides were getting high, but it's the end of the season, so no one gives a shit anymore.

I then sat down under a goolar tree, to wait for his appearance. The goolar is a species of fig, and the leaves are much relished by cattle and goats.

In memory, all the food they brought us first was red: the bresaola, the fat tongues of roasted peppers laid on goat's cheese, the radicchio, the white china bowl of radish coronets.

In Eden one can imagine no need for painting, and one glimpses its painterless, visually sufficient world in the blank canvas […]