I wonder what the future holds for this carefree young Indian boy swimming in the backwaters seemingly a million miles away from the dynamic economic revolution that is sweeping his country. I will never know and perhaps will be long gone when maybe he heads some multinational corporation bringing technological wonders to the world. I envy the vitality of the changing world order, not for what it is achieving, but because I can never be a part of it, being a fading ember in the cooling furnace that was an empire. There will be mistakes and injustices but I hope someone will have learned from the errors of the past. A hope in vain I fear if I am a model.
There is always tomorrow, which is why nothing is wasted here in the rich heartland of France. All fruit, be it cultivated or wild is treasured in the real sense, stored in the dark for those special moments with friends when out come the jars of liquor rich in flavors of years gone by. As you can see the jar on the right is still young and not yet ripened to maturity, not year three or four years old. No matter, there is always tomorrow.