Remind me, would you, to buy more of the Peach Momotaro, with its images of waterfalls, lichen-toned terraces, waves of mountains imprinted with dots, little white flowers, and mist. When I drink it, and the steam enters me, I think of you and the water feels as if it’s pouring over the . . .
Tea, No Sympathy
Bigelow brews up basic black; Lipton warms with its touch of tart Tuscan lemon. But I see these aren't your cups of tea. With them, you get no yin, no yang, no sweet and bitter blend of Golden Flower, no accents of lanky Jasmine Fairy Maidens quick to unfold their charms in the . . .