"So what shall you do with the rest of your life, friend Timothy?" he asks.
"I shall limit it," I reply. "I shall do a Rousseau. I shall turn my back on grand concepts, cultivate my grapes and perform good works in miniature."
"You will build a Berlin Wall around yourself?"
"Unfortunately, Volodya, I already have one. My uncle Bob put his vineyard inside an eighteenth-century walled garden. It's a frost trap and a haven for disease."
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