As he started to catch his rhythm, his mind started to get lost in different thoughts. Condensation of his body had just started to become visible through his shoulders. Only God knew how many mosquitos would eventually claim those wet shoulders as their graveyards.
He had heard somebody talk about Manet’s Olympia at a bar in Lausanne a couple of days ago, and he remembered the conversation between the two gentlemanly looking douchebags.
One of them had expressed his admiration towards the famous oil painting, while the other just referred to the character of the painting as a whore and he had said that he would never have anything to do with prostitutes in his life. “Even if god came down and gifted me that painting, I would still burn it. I hate prostitutes.” He had said.
Simon wanted to headbutt the douche on the spot. The other guy had already expressed his dislike of prostitutes...

After a long sad conversation with Désiré, Simon decided that it was time to go back home.
He drove out of the village quite fast. He was always amused by how good a driver he was. It was always easy to make the tires screech, however, it wasn’t always easy to touch the apex the right way. He loved the fact that if you do it right, the inside rear tire would leave the ground for just a couple of seconds. He remembered the adrenaline that it gave him the first time he felt that tire cut off it’s connection with the tarmac.
He didn’t feel the same rush anymore, neither did he feel a rush when he was skydiving, nor skiing down a mountain with over 120 kph. This feeling of not feeling a rush scared him to death. The feeling of tasting danger on his lips was what pushed him until now. Knowing that the feeling wouldn’t be there anymore was just as painful as anything else could hurt him.
...

It was only fitting that the little boat’s name was “Désiré”. Longing for something was what he did all day, everyday. He didn’t know what he was longing for, he assumed that he desired many things, which included professions, women, hobbies, fame, and the list just rolled along.
He didn’t like this part of the world much, but in all honesty he didn’t like much of the world anyways. This little medieval French village was so annoying to him that he only enjoyed the place when nobody was around. That’s why he had driven down here at 5 am to enjoy the cold breeze by the lake. In late August the weather went up to 35 degrees celsius, which he did not enjoy much since he didn’t have the sea around to dive in whenever he wanted to.
But, there he sat down by the lake right behind “Désiré”, which perhaps was a fishing boat. It could’ve been a fishing boat for some regular fella, or it...