Coffee Bellecour

The coffee is pretty, many couples, mixed-race couples, it’s fashion, it could fail anyway. I’m hungry,
they do not serve for a long time, they shit in France. I can go see a girl but I’m tired.
The guy next to me signs a life insurance, 70 years maybe. I never understood what it was for.
Maybe someday. The dark skins do not attract me decidedly, yet a few meters, I have the address of a
very pretty Swiss mulatto.
Tudesque eyes on a black ass.
A very good sucker, I fucked the gazelle alpine pastures.