evelyn booked us into bastide,
a wonderful french restaurant in tribeca,
as a surprise for my birthday.
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as we were walking towards it,
tim and i stopped dead in our tracks.
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years earlier, after 9-11,
tim and i had wandered tribeca,
dreaming of living there.
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we had found an abandoned building for sale,
had dreamed of converting it,
selling units,
living at that corner.
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of course,
it was where bastide now resides.
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you enter into a room of fresh apples:
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and are candle-lit the entire meal:
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there was something in that lobster and crespelle terrine
that i would have married:
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and something in the evening i will never forget:
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