And then there were these voices

When I was young my parents once took us for a Summer Holiday in France in 1976, I think the place was called Avalon. We were staying at a campsite along a whispering river right next to our tent, a lovely noise when you woke up and listened to it in a tent lit up orange with the morning sun.

My dad drove us there in his old orange Volkswagen bus and my mum and dad took turns in driving so we drove all night long until we arrived there deep in the night. All the way down there I laid in the back on top of the engine, the noise made me fall asleep (it still is like that, I can fall asleep instantly with loud music).

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