ON A SUMMER OVER-FLAVOUR


My First France Summer Holiday Saint Tropez Experience. A wealth of the  unsay,

Be an eyes teasers gentleman during a summer gathering of all size of feminism ableist  in the “apero” beach late hour sunny rush at saint tropez quietness.

 Narrowing her eyes, she had the sudden, inescapable feeling of her life -what later turn to be her love in Tokyo, with me and two honourable father-daddy … deep, masculine, and that rumbled through her like a gathering, look in an odyssey whispering winter storm. 

Eyes have never see; and just seeing, what invariably to mark a never ending streams that flows of eternal unbelievable memorable never to be user. That bright summer late rushing holiday in saint-tropez, south of France. Later turned on the music dormant in me, and has always with photo-image picture remained forever, as it cut across the simple gaze of looking or stealing the look on another creature…………….just seeing , and never forgotten.

There seated closed to me another idle lost eyes, behaving like spying, in an effortless far off on same objects of rare blond creature from the odyssey atlantic isle….. when suddenly we shrugged and shouted to hissed at one  another, in like gentlemanly young and well into their fifth with cup of wine beside. … Sipping in the beach sun set water sand, she tried not to make eyes contact with anyone, most …. undercut by the elaborate and trendy gowns that clothed the gathered nobles. ….. Sneak Peek Teasers:

A Teaser, is an eyes expression more  than the general believes of physical, a rooted culture of urban Africans resolved to matched the compete more experience European, educated equal revelry, and the advantage, I knew. I had to pushed my level I never till date attained. I decided to put and pulled my seduction light energy to recharged my exotic expression up and down to reflected the image of one those resourcefulness dear caring Africans.

I remembered. That I had to polished the expression from mouth, to an upgraded level of great adventurist rooted urban brasses traveller African diplomat also, with some exceptional hiding natural value, despite all odd against my enterprises seduction knowing the limitation of my wallet. self attractive promotion. I said. I must be contemporary, groundbreaking, funny, different, inspiring, not-giving -disturbing nor boring her, just be free civilize globetrotter gentleman and must be perceived so, whatever be the cost of the situation.

On the famous faithful day, saint Tropez, was at it pick sunny tranquil beach full bubbling of ross and roses,” beur blanc and black” the new moment wave of those hippy days, once in a year dearing loose freelance-life changing attitude, with stead uninterrupted vague of the classic moment of go-and -come, in July-August rushing to the “au bord de la plage” Frenchy lifestyle, a sudden ravaged, of libertine revolutionary acquired liberation feminine revolution of the sixties. I learned myself, by refusing to take the two old daddy sin other than my own yoke; as the two gentle old man promptly asked me to join them. In an effort to be their helping partner of a night class of old daddy poule. From this moment, I knew, I’ll have my way, what remain to be uncertain is how solid?, exactitude and refreshing,  will be in the mixt of two cracked and long valid experience. I understood that moment.

That remind me; and put in my lips the song, I must be singing, “that if I fall I must get up, for any who fall must struggle to win next time and get up for another day”, says, that awesome praise song of Donnie McClurkin,  the word If I fall does no more matter to me I say to myself.

They says  ” sex never getting better than to try for the first time something never did before”, I’ll no more bother how much it will cost me.

As an unexpected invited guest from here, I need to summoned courage and be inspired festivities, so in silent, I refurbished how to break the barriers of my social handicap limitation, both in wallet and ego social. But unknowingly,  to the other,  I’ve vowed to make that day one of the very first memorable French escapism, a more successful than they thought no matter the cost, though not in lives-but in social value standard, with that in my mind as assumption, I grew in inventive and certainty, which later naturally play one of those decisive role, courage that anyone can hold on-to-on the memory lane of a life time.

In saint Tropez, I knew, I was going to realize the I had assigned myself, with a master-piece plan-like the one of Louis de Funès in the gendarmette at saint Tropez, one of the French classic Masterpiece on the big screen of the septieme art, as it  was called. One need to see me that famous moment in 1987, I was at my very best. The best of which I still struggle to equal  till date-probable – the realities of lives itself has waged in without knowing.

As I now, belief that life is full of up-down-up, a sort of zigzag wave, I was a class in itself ready to outclassed anyone, a class even money cannot nor compete with, a height most thrilling as role to play, with smiles mouth daring of the glorious past, never equal nor find,  despite it sordid brief, but dense and rich than a decade tonic and torrid fastline joy uninterrupted.

In the aftermath, of that fast period of feminism, liberty-libertine of cross interrelation and interracial, without tomorrow of the beginning, a man must understand not to leave part of himself and be able to regain energy, to face the real realities of the hard life. That day and the two night  that was to follows. I knew I had realized the dreamed of a life experience in the wise of the xx  night life, that comes and lost with opportunity not forever grab, but go for the brief stop . Here Saint Tropez, become the place where, I lived something of me behind that was the real me. Do I regret?,  No till date, surely, as one part of me was lost and never to be found in a relation that later end costing me no damme cents even the  following two month of my returning back in Paris-in-wallet and CB value; than the loss of an odyssey Caucasian from the icily Siberian blond of the Icily from polar European.

Today, Saint -Tropez, is still a place, where the bones that hide inside my throat and brain never out nor regurgitated in vomit; still the odour forever left a mark in my mouth.

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s