I found half of the day to visit a flower show and had my long hair cut. Coming out of the show, I walked along until I came to a park bench. I sat down to allow myself some leisure for the first time since I started learning French two months before.
Then a book lying in the grass nearby caught my eye. I picked it up. It was a French book in excellent binding①. As I turned the pages quickly, a young couple came up to ask if I had seen a book in German. Wrongly understanding my expression on my face, the young man, who seemed well-educated, added that it was a book in literature.
