Chapter 2.
Unbelievable! Here I am, in this God–forsaken town, at the wrong time, definitely in the wrong place. The shock I felt at first changed to anger, not pain. I am practiced. To feel pain would sap my much–needed energy and put into question the wherewithal of my political faith. Work has to be done swiftly, with my eyes open wide, because here, in Germigny, what do we have? Vast open spaces; not the smallest hill in sight but patches of woodland, little hamlets, the Cher river as limpid as the eyes of innocence, brooks stretching away from it, bridges hovering over, trees towering over the bridges. A Monet landscape, peaceful, lyrical. Imagine now the radio waves running like hares through those fields. The hunter with his dog, watching, ready to raise his rifle and fire. You cou
