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I once drove to Hot Springs, Arkansas with a friend and met a man who suffered multiple personality disorder; well, to be even more precise, I actually met him twice.

    TAGS:  Arkansas, hot springs, multiple personality

The Rocks :: Keith

“This country seems to swallow rock,” the woman at the gravel pit said to me as I paid my bill, to which I replied, “And having lived in northern Arkansas, I can tell you for a fact that that is where the country spits it back out.”

    TAGS:  Arkansas, gravel, rock

There is the perfume that has been your signature scent since your first encounter with it in Edinburgh, the one made by bright young whoosits in England, the one that smells of orange, pine, and patchouli and makes you smell of ginger ale when you put it on; there is the eau de toilette that you bought at a famous designer’s shop in New York, the one with packaging that made you wonder if the fragrance inside would be cloying and obnoxious, the one that turned out to be peppery and charming; there is the fragrance you bought at a spa in Arkansas, scented with essential oils of nectarine and basil, a scent that knocks you back to your suite at the writer’s colony with Proustian nostalgia; all of these fragrances are wonderful, and all have their place, but somehow there’s nothing like the French perfume that your sweet friend brought you back from Paris to remind you that there’s a reason that French perfume has the reputation that it has: namely, it’s beautiful stuff, and you cannot possibly help but feel pretty as soon as you put it on.

    TAGS:  friends, Arkansas, basil, New York, French, Edinburgh, England, fragrance, Paris, nectarines


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