Pablo Picasso had a problem: all he could paint nowadays was salad. Admitting at last that he needed psychiatric help, he took a few paintings of arugula to the rue de Lille, to show to Lacan, his private doctor.
When Picasso saw a celebrated art dealer waiting at the Solférino Métro station, he didn’t want the word getting around that he could only paint arugula, so he shamefacedly left his work behind him on the train.
Reaching Lacan’s waiting room, he was astonished to see his paintings already hanging on the wall, beautifully framed and signed with a grandiloquent flourish. “You should know by now,” Lacan beamed, “that a lettuce always arrives at its destination.”
Two things 1) I don't get it and 2) I always thought rocket was part of the cabbage family (although thinking about it I suppose cabbages and lettuce are related)
Two things 1) I don't get it and 2) I always thought rocket was part of the cabbage family (although thinking about it I suppose cabbages and lettuce are related)