A friend telling me the story: Paris, 1968. A foggy night. The sound of a flute leading him down to the Seine, by the Ile de la Cité - Notre Dame looming dark in the thick fog. The rumble of a police boat, manned by a machine gun, a search light breaking through the fog and holding him in its beam. He twists away from the beam, slips into the dark fog, the menacing rumble of the boat intermingling with the sweetness of the flute.
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