Moonlit Echoes of Provence • Sleep Stories for Adults
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The late afternoon light has turned everything to honey when you turn off the main road onto a narrow lane barely wide enough for your car, marked only by a weathered wooden sign that reads "Mas de la Lune" in faded script. The road—more dirt track than actual road—winds between fields that stretch away on both sides, and the car bounces gently over the uneven surface, forcing you to slow down, to take your time, to enter this place at the pace it demands rather than the pace you might prefer.
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