The first time I was in France on holiday, I saw it mostly from the car.
Every night we drove on just a little bit too long.
We came through small villages in the twilight; here and there a light was already on.
The paintings of Henri Le Sidaner give me the exact same feeling of melancholy.
It is warm and good in these houses, and they would let you in if you knocked on the door, but you don't and it is okay.
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