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Photographer's Note

small way in the Breton countryside

To go to the Prefecture
Take the road number three
You am the file of the cars
And you t'en go straight, straight...
It is billiards, it is a track,
Not a tree, not a flower,
As it is beautiful, as it is sad,
You will make of the a hundred and thirty per hour
But me, these asphalt roads,
All these roads
Disgust me,
If you like me, come, come,
Come to sing, come to stroll
And we will take a short cut:
The small way that here...

This small way... which feels hazel nut
This small way... has neither tail nor head
It is seen
Who makes three
Small turns in wood
Then it leaves
Randomly
While strolling like a lizard
It is the appointment of all the insects
The birds for us, give their festivals to it
The rabbits invite us
Mouse me, let us run quickly
Do not fear anything,
Take my hand
In this small way!
Secondary roads
Where the old roadmenders are kings
Have the air of these horizontal
Who always filled me of fear...
And their telegraph poles
Make an insufficient shade
For the poetic idylles
And for the resting dreams...
With bottom folded back roads
Stone heaps,
Dust
And the yellow grass of the slopes...
The roadmenders, one should not any any more! ...
We took a short cut:
The small way that here...

This small way... which feels hazel nut
This small way... turned me the head
I posed
Three kisses
On your curly hair...
And then on
Your figure
All smeared of blackberries...
To observe us, of the thousands of insects
Settled over our heads
But a hare with the passage
Us said "Are wise!"
Do not fear anything
Take my hand
In this small way!

Words: Jean Nohain. Music: Mireille

sorry for the translation the original words in the French section

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Additional Photos by hassan bensliman (albiback) Gold Star Critiquer/Gold Star Workshop Editor/Gold Note Writer [C: 643 W: 52 N: 916] (8751)
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