is a story that makes her smile. This is the story of a bread that I enjoyed, and continues still. Friday night after a long day of conference we go to a restaurant. Quebecers make me drink French poor lonely as I am. We will then at Thomas and Sophie (two colleagues being with me), we still reserve two three opened bottles. We go out? Branch Lower City, and this time, we are more than four. After a good poutine in Ashton (we were hungry, with Guillaume), we are seated in a bar which I no longer know (if I met him one day) the name. Justin found us. It crossed the entire city by bike, and found an open bakery. Oh, my friend has just said he would provide bread for each of us! I ended up at one o'clock in the morning, in a lively bar with a pint of beer hand and a large olive bread on her lap. An hour later I'll have to go up the coast to find my house. And there, the bread will be a great support. Package as I was, I talked to him all along. It's three o'clock in the morning I go to bed, and found the bread a nice place on my desk. The next day I woke up, the gray of the day, I'll have 5 minutes to try to reconstruct the scene and understand why an olive bread sits majestically near the computer ... It should be noted that at present, nothing proves that this bread has existed, but one picture. He was quickly eaten.
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