The road to the brocante is never the same way twice.
The seasons make sure of that.
The old things gathered tell me so,
ah and the stories mingled between the two tell me this moment is more than meets the eye.
The French Brocante stole my heart before I was born, maybe a mustard seed was buried under my pillow… I don't know but I think it is true.
How can a brocante start such a revolution of pleasure. It is something I will never grow tired of….
Oh France how you seduce me. Loving you is just an easy thing to do.
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