The Singing Of The Cicadas I
Eric was sitting in his patio rocking chair, lazily enjoying the afternoon sun and the Mistral breeze. Contented, he watched his great-grandchildren run around and play in the garden of his old mansion in Aubagne near Aix-en-Provence. With his belly well-stuffed with tomatoes and pickled olives from his own garden, fresh baguette, well-matured Banon cheese and glass of his favorite Châteuneuf-du-Pape, he allowed his old body to relax and let the chirping of the cicadas lull him into his...
Wife Lovers