Winter of Summers by Michel Faudet

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   My preferred way to travel is not a plane but a book. How wonderful it is to be transported somewhere new without having to leave your bed.

   I believe we've reached a point in history where we know exactly the stupid path we are sleepwalking along but simply don't care enough to wake up and change direction.

   When a dream comes true, it never ceases to amaze me how quickly the restlessness returns.

   Read to me, my love, and please never stop.

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