jean christophe

I like to share the bread of this Bedouin son of the desert and the soup from this peasant bougnat. I love the smell of my bistro in the early morning in the waltz of cafes and the wisteria on its terrace in the torpor of the afternoon. I like to smile; It’s my way of being kind. I like hearing the halyards click on the mainmast and the inflated sails change tack, frightening this gull. I love the scents of this undergrowth, the humus and the joy of spring. I like living people who, with courage, try, fail and start again. I hate sycophants of all kinds, slanderers and sycophants. And I hate my mom's cooking (don't laugh, it's really gross).