Wild white horses running along the sand, wild young ladies serving wine on the side of the road. Through the silence you can hear classical music playing in the wind.
I try a speaking French and Brigitte tries a little English, but neither of us are really getting our small talk past what our eyes are saying. Not that I really care, but it occurs to me that this is not a fruit stand but a wine tasting bar. Using select French words – and pantomime – I ask Brigitte what she was doing way out here. I am answered with a glass of champagne. She finishes her pour with a fresh raspberry drop, and enjoys a berry for herself – almost as much as I enjoyed watching the deep red fruit pass Brigitte’s matching red lips. We sip champagne as a group of wild horses run on the sand across the street.