Dear France,
You have been a rural Pierre Puvis de Chavannes tripper-snipper coupe of Le Rustique camembert on Jean-Louis French oak log's from Christophe's wood yard fired oven bread, slightly charred base with small remnants of coal, eat too much and your stomach huffs as an extinguished well used fire place during European harsh winters running non-stop-like for fear of cold-feet-on-floor-don't-like-wearing-slippers-coz-my-feet-will-sweat friendly place. Basically, you kept me on my toes, you kept me warm and sometimes cold and you allowed me to feel gut buzzers as good slugs of Pere Magloire Fine V.S. Calvardos will give you on a lonely evening.
Thank you so much.