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The Little Paris Bookshop

Books, like alluring strangers, can unexpectedly sweep you off your feet. Still, I hadn’t expected to be seduced and fall in love. A month or so ago, I picked up The Little Paris Bookshop while browsing at a somewhat unfriendly bookstore (it’s hard to believe that such places exist, it seems contrary to the nature of

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A Return to Cannes

My eyes scan the crowded sidewalk café, searching for an open table. Funny that it is much more crowded than yesterday, I think to myself, spotting an available table for two and maneuvering quickly to grab it before someone else does. As I sit down and face the bustling open air market in its covered

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L’olivier: the Olive Tree

I wish this was made of olive wood. That was the thought that lingered in my mind as I stood at the sink, washing the stainless steel ladle I had used for scooping the evening’s homemade soup (organic broccoli and potato, in case you were curious). Despite my aptitude as a French-trained cook, the kitchen

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Provence, 1970

I just finished a lovely book. For those who read the Soul Artist Journal on my Soul Quests website, you have probably noted that at the top of the sidebar of the SAJ page, just above the subscription feature, I list the book(s) that I’m currently reading. If you receive this via email, for better or

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A Soup for the Soul: Une Soupe des Poissons

Standing outside at the Honolulu airport in the moist, warm night air, my body felt utterly exhausted. Arriving back at home, I promptly fell into bed, worn out from a long day of travel—too many planes and airports, and hurtling through the atmosphere for too many hours. Convenient and speedy as it is, I don’t

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