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Chapter 6 - Wonderful World

Also in all fairness, itís to Christopher that I owe at least a smidgeon of my fondness for Le Cafť du Monde, since on that first day almost seven years ago it was he who instructed me in the dying art of dignified beignet-eating in breezy weather. And not just that, for his passion for those hot, sugar-topped delicacies was a privilege to behold, like an orthodox ritual, with him not hurrying the precious cargo to his mouth but pausing beforehand to ingest its aroma, eyes closed, knees pressed together and skewed to one side, head cocked to the other, as if preparing to accept a wafer ensuring life everlasting. A few months later Christopher died from AIDs complications, although I didnít receive that news for more than a year, long after my zany impulse to call him up and ask him out had puffed by like powdered sugar in the wind.

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