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Reclamation d'un Coin Perdu

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I was amblin' home with a bellyful of matcha gelato and a bag of dumpster mangoes and a head happy with the current state of my manuscript when I spied a big beautiful barefoot man goin' at it with a pickaxe on a patch of corner ground next to the Haitian produce shop. I asked him in French if he was gonna plant some legumes and he said les fruits et les fleurs. Quelle sort des fruits, I wanted to know. Les raisins et les fraises. On Sunday, he said, anyone from around here can come help him plant the garden. Mon mari, I replied, is in the Canton L'Est fetching a big panier of manure... I could bring a bucket. I told him I was excited... C'est un coin... I couldn't think of the word... he supplied it: "Un coin perdu." Sunday. Grapes and strawberries and a neighbourhood dig, next to the Haitian fruit shop... a forgotten corner no more. One more reason to be delirious with happiness in springtime Montreal.

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