Monet, Renoir and Me

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Room 255 saved my sanity yesterday.  No, I haven’t been committed to an asylum yet like the tranquil setting in Saint Remy where Vincent Van Gogh spent much of the last year of his tormented life.  Boston’s cold, snowy record-breaking winter has been really bad this year, but not that bad. Still, after a Friday…

What now for France?

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The images from across the ocean have been painful: an office room, its floor covered with blood and papers; the arc of iron latticework at the Eiffel Tower’s base, framed around two soldiers, patrolling with semi-automatic weapons; massive crowds, marching for their very freedom of speech. There is no justification for terrorism. Not ever.  But…