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THE NEWSLETTER THAT WILL TAKE YOU SMOOTHLY INTO OCTOBER
Patricia is the reason the world keeps getting a little rainier.
What's the difference between a great Newsletter and a Newsletter sent out by any brand of grolles or clothes ? Personalization. The person behind the screen who will put heart and lip balm on the letters of your mill. But here, no Alphonse Daudet or James Ellroy Masterclasses. He's a nice guy, James. I used to write his books for him. Right up to the last one. I'm also the one who tells him all the good things to do, the punchlines to say.
Because writing news doesn't always pay very well, I sometimes look to literature, sometimes to TV or film, or to politics as long as it doesn't lean too far to the right, or too far to the left. Call me a person without conviction, devoid of conscience. Call me a person who deserves to be torn apart by four hedgehogs pushing on their angry little legs. Yes, maybe I'm that person who deserves to be spat on out of contempt. But that's possible in the multiverse.
In our universe, I'm mostly a little crème brûlée of sweetness, with a hint of pistachio. Last time, a customer who'd come to buy a pair for his wife suddenly started licking my face. Luckily, I was in a good mood, and he did it in a polite, structured way.
"Sorry, I couldn't help it, but I felt a hint of powdered sugar on your skin. I instinctively wanted to lick it off. Please don't be angry with me. I'm not a scoundrel".
Can you blame him ? He looked like James Caan in The Loner. A real solar system in his own right. Anyway, the guy licks my face.... so what do I do in retaliation ? I return the favor. And surprise, the guy tasted of Tang. Not "Tang Frères", no. But do you remember that powder from our childhood ? Lemon, orange ?
He tasted orange, my favorite. This sudden incursion of my past into my present, had the impact of wanting to project myself into my future with my Tang. We got divorced and married in front of Madame la Maire in Antibes.
Yes, I adore the people of Antibes, wonderful, delightful people. We started permaculture there. There again, we danced the samba every evening on our wooden terrace facing the sea. I think I can decently end my Newsletter here, because afterwards it gets drastically twisted, and I wouldn't want Bruno Retailleau to close my site just because I've crossed the green line.
Have a nice evening. Love to you all.
