Jun. 5th, 2017

chanter_greenie: paratroopers walk across Carentan, with fire burning in the background (BoB - Carentan: dang mosquitos!)
Tonight is the night of nights, and tomorrow the day of days.

How has it been seventy-three years? How is the quirky femme eccentric one of the ones who remembers the date outright, though obviously not firsthand, where the larger world seems to have, so far, missed it? I don't object in the slightest, and never will, to being one of those to openly make note, but I am a little surprised... Not at myself. At everyone else.

While drafting this, my clock clicked midnight. D-Day is here.

Seven decades and an ocean away, contraband radios are glowing, bridges are going up (Résistance, fraternité) all over Normandy, and Allied parachutes are descending on the hedgerows. That rocks my heart with the monotonous languor.* D-Day is here.

*Deliberate? on-air misquote of the original Verlaine. I harbor a friendly suspicion that it was intentional. It is a pitch perfect edit, given the circumstance it was used in. The French, at least by the looks of it and my clumsy parsing through Spanish, is a far more subtle edit than the English of it.

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