Close your eyes: imagine plants, flowers, fruits, bird songs, in a tropical atmosphere of coconut palms and frangipani. And if you were told that was accessible in the heart of Paris, just a few metro stations away?
The palms of July are a distant dream. Scenting the air in the Bois de Boulogne, umbrella pines remind us of holidays past. As you dreamily reminisce, you find yourself falling into a kind of gloom ... But stop! Why sulk all winter and hibernate until April?