TheDevianA

In morning, the wooden floor is reflecting the sunshine like marble as ever after the enormous amount of friction and maintenance. Stepping over the masonry of Église du Val-de-Grâce paved in the 16th century, as usual, I opened the door of the compartment, donned my garment and placed my tag and pen in the front pocket. I thoroughly cleaned my fingers in water and alcohol gel---- this is every day’s work and the ritual before one-day-campaign. I opened the door again. The conversant smell of disinfectant water and alcohol reassured me. I have to be candid. Nothing can relive me like this place. Even where the place so-c