Bouzincourt The woods are full of the sound of birds and the doors of every village shuttered to the sun. In lingering fields of wheat, white crosses burn: the names of all our dead are …
November 18, 2015
Posted November 16, 2015
Bouzincourt The woods are full of the sound of birds and the doors of every village shuttered to the sun. In lingering fields of wheat, white crosses burn: the names of all our dead are …