Moderation is a fatal thing
Nothing succeeds like excess
Oscar Wilde: A Woman of No Importance
Dedicated to my fellow traveler Ray Else, and to my dear friends Audrey and Bob McKelvey in memory of Baby
She jumps up hit by the blast of wind grazing her back. She has just but avoided a speeding motor biker reaching after her handbag. Is it the same one she saw in front of the house trying to steal her handbag containing the letter or a mugger going after her money? She hastens her pace to get rid of the letter the soonest possible before something gruesome happen. She crosses the Boulevard Saint Michel, enters the street of Saint-André-des Arts, and continues her way in the pursuit of her mission leading her to Paris in pursue of an event that started in Prague on one of the muggy August days.