Far away from the cities and towns, where the radio crackles as it's trying to pick up a signal, we're spending three nights at a campsite deep down in the Gorges du Tarn.
We decide to go swimming in the Tarn. It's summer time but the water is cool. The sun is going down behind the granite rock of the valley. Her warm light makes our skin look the colour of gold. We're friends and we're exactly where we're supposed to be. There's no need to say anything. We just smile.
We're smiling because we know that for the rest of our lives, these moments will remain in the depths of our memory. We'll grow old, we'll have wives and children, and one by one, we'll leave this world and our friends to catch up with us one day down the road.
For this particular moment in time though, we feel like we're young forever. And that is all that matters, all that used to matter, and all that ever will.
Through the mad mystic's hammering
of the wild ripping hail
The sky cracked its poems
That the clinging of the church bells
blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning
and its thunder
Striking for the gentle,
striking for the kind
Striking for the guardians
and protectors of the mind
(Bob Dylan - Chimes Of Freedom)
Have a great week!