In France trees are not left to grow to their full shape but are continually stumpified and uglified.
However, this tree, probably a walnut, has suffered more than most even by French standards. Each time I go past it, just when I think it has been pruned into oblivion, it has been pruned again. Why? A figure has emerged from this tortured tree, a face, arms, a defiance, a statement of its spirit.
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