I live in a small village, on the northern shore of quite a big lake. This is prime Central/Western European wine country. The river Rhône flows through the lake. At times, when the lake is still, you can see the Rhône’s current, rippling lengthwise down the lake’s midsection. If you’re a swimmer and out far enough, you can pass from the cool of the lake to the glacial chill of the river running through it, reminding you of its birthplace, high up in the Swiss Alps.
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