An angel on the Place Jean Moulin, between the trees, reveals the graphite after dark. At the bakery “Le Boulanger de l’Hôtel de Ville” I look in the mirror. The heart is honey-colored corduroy, touching the moon with a finger. Sweet chestnuts. How do we know each other?
Continue readingDate Archives December 2025
Vincent Delerm in Bordeaux
At this concert, I cried, laughed, sang songs, transported myself to the land of childhood, saw my mother’s smile, and my friend’s tears mingled with mine. Time sparkled on my cheek. I absorbed the theater, enjoyed French, and lived in Bordeaux that night.
Merci Beaucoup!
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