.. Leaving out the detail that they are better flirts than those kissing Dutch. We started to chat in the bus. Continued in the plane. Silenced by the...view over the Mediterranean and a large lake, while landing in sun-set. Another bus, and a long-time dear lady friend picked us up at Gare St Charles in old town. I´d no idea where we would sleep. She dropped up us off at a place in the 5th of old town. Some Claude´s place, who wasn´t there. He was my friend, but at the moment I wasn´t sure which. Thirteen I was, back then in the Great Depression, and we wuz better off than some cause we owned a boardin’ house and sold vegetables, meat and the like in warm months. It was just me, my Ma and two little s****rs, but we had help from the colored f****y that lived in a little house on the far side of our property. My Pa had left to buy tools the winter before and never come back. Big Ike was the colored man and he was the workinest man I ever seen. His arms was like fence posts and legs like. More

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