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A chestnut is just a chestnut but a chestnut becomes a treasure when it is given to you by someone special. Like how a handshake with an old uncle is just a mere handshake but a handshake with your idol makes you not want to wash your hands for weeks, or how that alley is just an alley but that ex of yours whom you once loved so much made it ‘the alley’ because of the memories you walked through with him or her once so often.

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After much flying, driving, and walking all in one day, my head began to sound like a radio with zero frequency. That loud, white noise buzzing for attention to be switched off or searched for – something has to be done. Instead, we drove along a route with rounded pins that left our Volkswagen swerving, but smoothly, at each corner making my passenger head rock 360; like my brain could splatter at the windscreen anytime soon. Unmistakeable though, was how blue blue can be, or green, for that matter, in autumn. Big Guy winded down the window and allowed the fresh, crisp breeze to blow my dizziness away.

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Luckily, it was a short drive that whisked me to ‘a place where the hunters used to dine those days’, as claimed by Big Guy. He had always wanted to take me there but we never got around doing so until this time, because Big’s younger brother (who is also big by the way) had to work overtime so we had no keys to enter the house. Taking advantage of our stranded situation, we had dinner at 5. Like the old people . . . so romantic. Awww . . . :razz:

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Notice how the ‘J’ has a deer horn? Speaking of hunting in the ol’ days. Rawwrrr!

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Happy with my feet on the ground. Outfit details here.

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i chose a seat which provided me this view whenever i looked front. Beyond shadow of a doubt, its picturesqueness gave me a peace of mind promising tranquility, serenity, eternity? :oops:

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i wasn’t joking when i meant old people. We were, i reckon, the youngest couple there.

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Rustic and vintage potted herbs to greet you at the dining table – a simple yet so lovely evergreen inspiration.

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We got the chest of a veil, i think, for the sake of truly experiencing the taste(s) real hunters get. Those potatoes you see there at the background, those are awesome! Just a small bite and you can taste how it was actually cooked in broth to reach the right tenderness and not just boiled in water.

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A salad to balance.

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Aaannd the unmistakeable mug of beer each as company (we are in Germany after all) while sharing a quiet conversation alaThe Signature of All Things‘ a.k.a. themed : botanical. Big Guy asked me questions like,

“Have you ever seen a chestnut tree?”

“Do you know how a chestnut looks like?”

then continued to tell me stories of trees. His voice slowly faded away in my head as i realized that the only chestnuts i ever saw were the ones rolling in big chestnut roasting machines; those you can recognize from their distinct aroma in shopping malls, or right in the centre of Petaling Street.

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Then Big Guy disappeared – - – for quite some time.

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“Where did you go?”

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Under a huge maple tree, Big Guy surprised me with two spiky mini porcupine looking thing and i squealed in delight.

“What are these?!”

“These are chestnuts”, he said, opening one of its soft shells to reveal the shiny, beautiful brown fruit inside. “Will you keep it?”

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He went for a walk through the garden to find me a chestnut. “Of course i will keep it!”

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Can you identify which is a chestnut tree? :)

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“Would you still get me a chestnut when we grow old like these people one day?” i asked, rather timidly.

He looked at me and a big smile warmed his face, the answer below.

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2 comments on “A Chestnut Love Story

  1. joy

    congrats, dear! but something about Caucasians is they will always want to have sex before marriage. i am under the impression that you are against that (because i have been following your blog for years now).

    Reply

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