Friday's French word of the day was "mouton."
On compte les moutons when we want to sleep. Or if you are the topic of way too many reunion whispers, then perhaps you are your family's mouton noir.
But what interested me the most is this, in a Feng Shui sort of way: That we can spend our lives going with the herd, lost the will to live vicariously. A hundred years of existence as a docile mouton, abandoning the call to forge ahead and be a lion. How sad indeed.
Mieux vaut vivre un jour comme un lion que cent ans comme un mouton.