Chagall, Swiss Teens, and Topless Tanning

Upon returning to Cannes from a  charming, slightly haunted wedding in Saint George sur Cher, I found myself incredibly ill, depressed, and alone. I fell in the dark hole that one wonders if she will ever come out of. I woke up crying, went to bed crying, cried on the train, in the market, at school, basically anywhere. Looking back I can't believe how liberated I was to allow myself to express such raw emotion for the world to see, and didn't have the chance to think twice about it because the tears streamed without prevail. I wished I had died in the accident, kept thinking I made a huge mistake coming over here (yeah it was that bad). I had no friends, nothing, no one, nada. There isn't much to do in Cannes aside from going to the beach, going to the beach, and going to the beach. What Florida is to the United States, Cannes is to France. Lots of old people and lots of teens and springbreaker types just on a more international level. No one liked me at all. Some of the staff members where quite mean to me and refused to assist me when asking for help, on anything, even making fun of me. It takes a lot to stand up for yourself in a foreign land all alone, when you are the only one who has your back. I was spent. I also thought I would have taken a lover by this point too and I was no near even having that happen.

Part of me wanted to pack everything up and go back to the States. It's all too hard, I can't do this, and I'm not even speaking French. I gave up everything to be here. I let my whole life go. Remence of it maybe remain in the creases of an alley in Humboldt Park back in Chicago and that's it. 

Back at the college a new session was starting so that meant new people coming in. The busy season was over in Cannes, so basically slim pickings from here on out. My current and second host mother ( a 60 year-old woman, with a cat) set me up on a friend date with 19 year-old Swiss girl. Embarassing, but sweet. I went with her and we joined about 8 other Swiss teens and went to a hookah bar. Most of them thought I was 22. If I wore eye makeup maybe 19-20. Cool I think this means I'm aging well without trying. I have that going for me. They were sweet and I chatted with them. I forgot how exhausting it is to talk to teenage boys. They talk, but their bodies would rather be sleeping becaue they are going through all sorts of crazy hormonal changes. I always said no one could pay me enough to relive my teens or young tweenties, and yet here I am face-to-face with all of it. Here is the real kicker: I literally paid for it too. 

I did manage to find a 24 year-old British girl named Izzy. Practically forced her to meet me in Nice to go to the Chagall Musée. I came across this painting: 

I stopped, and felt a warm exhilerhation in my heart space; I placed my hand over my heart and realized I am alive. For the first time in a long time, I felt the passion at the bottom of my being rise up; the sleeping love in my soul swell; and the beautiful adventure that awaits penetrate my exhistence. The use of red in majority of his paintings is profound and noticed the others as foreplay for when I came to this one. By this point I was having a full body spiritual orgasm. Didn't realize the security gaurd was staring at me until Izzy came up and said, "I think we should go in the theater and watch the film." 

I fell in love his series "Le Cantique des Cantiques." I kept walking out and going back in. Finally I decided to sit in that room for about 30 minutes. Of course I cried. I was completely taken with the bottom right corner of this piece: "Le Cantique des Cantiques I." Again, Izzy found me and mentioned something about getting a drink.  We chatted for a long time on the terrace at the museum and had a great time. 

Next day I went to the beach and tanned topless for the first time in Cannes at the public beach. Can't believe it took me so long. My tits were starting to glow in the dark. 

I believe breasts love being adored by the sun. 

Until next time...

Bisous!