It’s Saturday afternoon in Paris. Christy has gone to sit in the Sacre Coeur and write. Luke is sitting by the window, learning French on his i-phone tutor.
I am reflecting.
I feel like Phillipe is loving our clowns into existence.
Like he is being cruel to the old habits to make them shut the f*** up so the clown can be found.
Like this is an incredible act of generosity.
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