imagination.

On afternoons so long and sweet we forgot who we were and pretended to be Parisian debutantes. These were the happiest days of our lives, lost in the sights and smells of a hopelessly romantic illusion of an unattainable life. It was just as well; we wouldn’t have liked it half so much if it were true.

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~ by Mary Christa on May 29, 2011.

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