the aftermath of autodefenestration

It's been 25 years since I last set eyes on Lisa Palmley.  She arrived at the moulin this evening with several bottles of wine, a crate of beer, two cakes, three boxes of ice cream and an engagement ring on her finger.  

We toasted the engagement, caught up on a quarter of a century and held hands as we jumped half naked into the canal from the sluice gate.