It was hard to break away from buying all the things I will never need or use. But the rhythmic beat of medieval musical instruments lured me outside the little room. A traveling troupe of I'm not quite sure whom or what cleared passage through the narrow streets of Fanjeaux.
Their clothes were ragged, their faces painted near ghoulish, as if the Plague was making a comeback. They did not speak or sing, but stared blankly and demonically as they processed. With the backdrop of the centuries-old buildings, I could have been time traveling.