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The Renault slowed as it turned onto Rue des Lilas.
The streetlamps along the narrow Lyon street made it even more beautiful.
Inside the car, Étienne Moreau exhaled and closed his eyes briefly.
A heavy feeling one have when crossing a line between two worlds the world of chambers and borders and nations, and the world where tasty soup and childhood still ring in corners.
As the car came to a stop, the front door swung open before the driver could even step out ...
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