France is Not England. But Sometimes It’s Tokyo.

The clumps in the trees, that in England would be rook’s nests or ivy, are some powerful all-conquering strain of mistletoe. (Why can’t there be a festivus for the rest of us?)

They have dainty red squirrels.

All over the place are unappealing, mud caked, walnut shells. They conceal nuts that are wrinkled, juicy and sweet. Like brains. I imagine.

There is a vending machine that produces hot pizza in three minutes.

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