Dear France–

I love you. I really do. I love your cheese, I love your wine, I even love your beer and gin; I love your Riviera, I love (most) of your intellectuals, and I love it when you have labor unrest, and I even love your weird sense of humor even if I don’t get it.

There are things that probably change in any society, and I am sure that yours in no different from mine in that regard.

Please do not assume that the twelve angry men, and one angry lady, running for the nod on the right-wing ticket in the US reflects a general sentiment. I do not think it does.

Your friend,

Lisa