Friday November 7.
Concarneau is desert.
The luminous clock of the old town, which can be seen above the ramparts, marks five minutes to eleven.
It's high tide and a southwest storm is causing the boats to collide in the port. The wind rushes ...
Friday November 7.
Concarneau is desert.
The luminous clock of the old town, which can be seen above the ramparts, marks five minutes to eleven.
It's high tide and a southwest storm is causing the boats to collide in the port. The wind rushes through the streets, where we sometimes see pieces of paper spinning at full speed along the ground.
Quai de l'Aiguillon, there is not a light. Everything is closed. Everyone is sleeping. Only the three windows of the Admiral's hotel, at the corner of the square and the quay, are still lit.
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