Cutting basil as the scent rises from the snipped stem is equalled only as a sensual experience by the fresh onion scent when cutting the grass-like leaves of chives.
"Why would anyone want to be a vegetarian?" asks a meaty young man to another as he steps out of The Compasses amid the odour of the Sunday roast emerging from the kitchen like the smoke from fatted cattle burned in their honour reaching the nostrils of the Greek gods on Mount Olympus.
A remarkable composition, the little yellow flowers draw the eyes and the shadow tells the story.
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