Every day in the decrepit l'Humanité there is a little message on the front page. Today's, continuing the paper's seance with May 1968, reads "Ils pourront couper toutes les fleurs, ils n'êmpecheront pas venue du printemps" ['They can cut all the flowers but they can't stop Spring from coming.'] Today, under the leaden Northern skies, the flowers have been cut and Spring is cancelled.
But what if
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