Those days of indian summer, sunshine burning our skin with a tender stroke.
There is something so poetic with the last days of summer.
Those amazing colors by the country side, the early night, the way we want it to never end.
But it always end doesn't it.
I wonder if anything stay the same.
Maybe we do, my blond dreamgirl, it's the world around us that changes.
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| being a vintage Gal |
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| At Virginie's |
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| At Virginie's |
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| Great grandma's pearls at granny's |
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| My lovely flowers from V. |
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| A day at Saint Tropez |
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| Doors of Saint Tropez |
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| Early morning pink mist |
"Il va y avoir une tempête ce soir."
Erotic Italian films from the 70's. Mi piace.
Death Proof from Tarantino
"La valse à mille temps" Brel.
