My crunchy vegan friends have been harping for years about sprouting. Sprouting beans, nuts, seeds – if there was a solid crumb on the floor they’d probably snatch it up and cover it in water. I had only half an ear cocked until I met Lola.
I met her at an art opening in Paris. She was your basic nightmare – clear-skinned, gorgeous waist-length chestnut hair, mysterious long hooded green eyes, tapering fingers and lips so naturally plump they actually had that little line of cleavage that looks like a cleft in the chin… I was drawn to her and followed her surreptitiously while mulling my opening gambit and wondering if I had finally become a lesbian. (It would make sense given my recent history – but that will be a book so stay tuned…)
Finally, we both lingered in front of a particularly abstract rendition of black and red chaos. I ventured a tentative comment coupled with a flirty laugh. She responded. But I didn’t want to talk about the art. I wanted to know about her canvas – her perfect skin. What were her secrets? It’s not as if she was 30. She was older. I could tell by her walk, her attitude. This was someone that had lived. Had I finally met another vampire? Maybe we could go somewhere and share a bite…
Like everyone Lola enjoyed a compliment. A few more and she was ready to share. Her secret: sprouted beans. Lola is a vegetarian and she swore up and down about the MAGICAL results of sprouting. She sprouts beans, nuts and seeds around the clock. They are her protein, her vitamins, her enzymes – her glorious skin.
But why? But how?
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