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3–4
.Medium
Published 1987
My memory of Nîmes seems to be stored in my limbs, heavy and sated with the sun, as I sit in the Jardins de Luxembourg gazing at a butterfly that flits over the floating stage of one of the loveliest theatres in Europe. Every afternoon Nîmois with time to spare come to these gardens built on the site of the Roman baths. Groups of middle-aged ladies sit in the shade; they crochet or embroider and discuss the goings-on of other middle-aged ladies not yet ready for these activities. Children p