If we were not so young and beautiful as we'd been in those years before the babies, at least we were beginning to look less tired. It was summer but cool enough in our second-story flat over the rue des Francs-Bourgeois, and the babies were not really babies anymore. Probably—yes—we were still young and beautiful. I woke up earlier than usual that morning, before the thrushes started in, unsettled by a rumbling sound from the fringe of my dreams. Still trembling, I wrapped my scarf at the … [Read more...] about Les Dansants