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The Singing Of The Cicadas I

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Eric was sitting in his patio rocking chair, lazily enjoying the afternoon sun and the Mistral breeze. Contented, he watched his great-grandchildren run around and play in the garden of his old mansion in Aubagne near Aix-en-Provence. With his belly well-stuffed with tomatoes and pickled olives from his own garden, fresh baguette, well-matured Banon cheese and glass of his

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