Small Miracles

Fingers are still prickly from the odd thorns of flower picking at Grasse and hair bears the salty air from the boat ride from Boulevard de la Croisette in Cannes, overlooking the Lerin islands; the chime of the clock of the hôtel de ville singing the hours is still audible in my mind's ear... It's hard to re-immerse oneself in the routine of the everyday, as one must. The following posts will