This is a safe place wherein I can natter at length about Jim. Some places are all about moving on. I hope I never move on. Yet I acknowledge the widow drum beat can be self indulgent.
Nevertheless, I seem to be newly grieved every other day. I’m likely to feel better in France in September. Two weeks including canal barge in the Loire and Western Burgundy, followed by four days in Paris staying at Le Bristol. Yay.
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