Autumn swept unnoticed into Vichy, silently creeping when I was busy preparing my trips and madly finishing my homework. "Do the leaves change colour here?" I asked Ludo on day. "What do you mean?" "I mean, well, in Canada, the leaves turn colour in autumn. First their tips turn, a yellow and brown. Then the veins turn bright yellow, and one day, you look up and your are surrounded by a sea of red and gold" "Oh. Well, they change colour, but I don't think it’s like that". I noticed fall today, not in colour but in smell- the musty, warm smell of fallen, crepe paper leaves. It was still warm as I walked through La Place Poste on my way from the cafe, walking through the fallen leaves, that the smell struck me. I gasped,
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