
In the salon of a Parisian mansion, time is suspended while it searches for a good reason to continue. Water is bubbling on the hob, the teapot is waiting patiently. On the table, the cups and saucers are ready for this daily ritual, no Madeleine would ever miss. Like Madeleine of Proust, its sweetness and aroma bring back memories. In these gentle moments of nostalgia, the air is charged with emotion. The feeling that nothing could completely disappear.
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