March 14, Saint-Ismier.
This morning it looks like someone took away a dirty film from our view of the mountains all around, leaving me dazed with the brilliance of their outlines. For almost a week there had been a pinkish-grey fog masking them, engulfing everything. Such pollution peaks are unfortunately common in this region where three mountain chains form a natural barrier around the city nestled in the valley.
Twice last week we went walking in the woods, along our beloved paths, because the kids were so eager and soon there'll be no more mountain trails to walk within a stone throw of our house, and I can't help but wonder now whether breathing that foul air, however lovely the walk seemed, however much we rejoiced in it, didn't contribute to Dylan's asthma attack the next day.
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