föstudagur, janúar 21, 2005

reykt

Cool air in the hills this evening. I keep thinking that Lapsang Souchong tea is steeping in great quantities somewhere nearby, but it is actually the smell of a hundred fireplaces burning fragrant wood. In such an atmosphere I expect to dream of Islay single malts, cold smoked trout, cigar boxes, tanned leather, snuff, and dried meat cut thin enough to filter light.

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