The first time I stepped in one of those foul little presents, I was with my host family, returning to the car after a lovely dinner. I was fifteen, and still a little naïve. My shiny purple Dr Marten boots were brand new, and I was utterly horrified to have soiled them.
Then I strode all the way to the Eiffel Tower. Striding helped with the cold. The Eiffel Tower loomed, silent, godlike, unconcerned with anyone unable to find a dog park in the Champ-de-Mars.
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Magazine – Events – Experiences
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