When I first set eyes on the beautiful city of Saint Pierre, Reunion, I never thought I’d be homeless after a couple of weeks and begging a Creole man for fish.
“Jean, it’s not scaled,” I complained some more as the orange sun set over the Indian Ocean.
“Peter, take it to Luc in La Salle Gross. He’ll cook it for you,” Jean said as he puffed on a rolled cigarette—his silver hair sparkling in the evening sun.
Downvoting a post can decrease pending rewards and make it less visible. Common reasons:
Submit