At her funeral, a white butterfly fluttered through the church on a summer breeze. Words were spoken, and many tears were shed, but over time the memories have faded. Some memories at least. This one though, that flitting movement of a silent dream making its way to a temporary resting place stays with me. Our little white friend landed on the coffin that day and stretched its wings, soon to be off to its next destination.
Seasons come and seasons…
Making friends is hard. Opening your inner self to others is harder, yet it's a necessity to form the type of meaningful bond required to make a friendship really stick. The folks we come across on our journey through our short time on this spinning ball of confusion feed our spirit and help us to get through our lives, and finding time to speak to the few true friends we have doesn't come naturally for some of us. Personally, I…
While getting oneself buried up to the neck in sand at the beach may be all fun and games, doing so with French smutster Gérard Kikoïne in the vicinity may put you in great danger of becoming the target for passing man (and lady) parts. What an opener that was... up there with Désirée Cousteau's car wreck scene in Pretty Peaches for sure.
Beyond that though, St. Tropez is a wild ride of nice scenery, camerawork and entertaining performances. Watching a French film with a German dub track and English subs was perhaps not optimal but hey, it certainly made things interesting.
i live in a hotdog
on a lonely old hill
people make fun of me
and that's not kewl
Never change Cartman
