Traditional   means bread to me, as I remembered on Sunday when I bought some.  Un traditionelle is a lovely fresh loaf.  I’m back in Figeac, following some of my own traditions and remembering some of the customs of this ancient place.

I’m breaking a few habits/traditions too. I’ve been going up to the station another way, just for variety.  There’s a newish footbridge I rarely use.  As I was coming back the other evening I got some lovely photos…. it was the Golden Hour…. sunset.  I’ve just been editing them, so it’s a perfect time for a show and tell.

Views of the River Célé, Figeac, France.

Reverse View