A Lady in France – A review

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My brief time in France was punctuated by rain, dampness threatening blisters between my skin and the stretchy Steve Madden wedge sandals that seemed practical before traipsing for miles on stone streets. My feet recovered, of course, and my memories of the city have taken on the misty haze of years past. I remember brie-filled baguettes and the Mona Lisa, the white dome of Sacré Cœur and the cool breeze of a ferris wheel only steps from the lights of the Lourve. . . .

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