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There was a day last week when I joked with R. that the entirety of the French air force flew over our flat, a few planes at a time, in tight formations. And really, really low. I assumed it was some kind of exercise — and I now think, in fact, that they were practicing for today.

We just had a very belated petit d?©jeuner at the caf?© on the corner, whose muted television was tuned to the live broadcast of the military parade and other festivities being held for la f?™te nationale. Almost as soon as we got back into the flat, the flyovers began; they didn’t seem to go on as long as the practice version, but I could just be misremembering.

For me, there’s little in the way of f?™te today; I’ve got to get myself back into this chapter. The summer is zipping by, way more speedily than I’d like…

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