I found a 1915 postcard and went for a walk, this morning. The trees are older, bigger now, but almost everything is still there, the barracks, the houses.
My aunt Elisabeth lived here, once upon a time. I visited her on birthdays, for tea in delicate china, petit fours, and (rather strange) Ricard. (She was the most beautiful girl of the village in her youth, I developed a taste for absinth, later...)
The folding Brownie, the papers, the developer - all wartime stuff.
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