Ear to the ground

If logistics was fine art, I could see cutting off an ear in frustration. I knew, for instance, that our arrival in Arles would not leave us in walking distance to the hotel. That was of some relief to Carol, who'd already had enough of rues and cours that looked like scenes from The Battle of Algiers. (I've come across some streets on the Left Bank in Paris that exist only in black and white.)

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