When we were 10 years old

Paris, 15 jully, 3:35 pm.

What would the french writer Philipe Delerm tell us about a first sip of a beer ? Go ahead Philipe, we’re listening: “It’s the only one that counts.” The following ones never reach the same level as the first, much like the first minute of finding a long lost friend. Philipe is right; everything is in the first sip. But does this hold true for lemonade? The beer drinker and the lemonade drinker, do they have something different to say about their particular liquid experiences?

If I must use pretext, here it is: the recent opening of the Berges de Seine will be my theater of operations. The sun, the lounge chairs, the peniches… at appropriate times, with a glass in hand. Well, that lemonade? A first sip, and nothing. No, it does nothing for me, not even the first sip, not even a little. Even on the Berges de Seine I’m still disappointed. I could have drunk lemonade just to the cusp of diabetes, and still never re-discovered the taste from my childhood. That secret lemonade recipe of my childhood seems to have been lost until the end of time…

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