Life is filled with pleasant surprises, even in the Alpine capital. All I was doing was flâning out on the terrace at Le Cymaise trying to enjoy my Pomme d’Amour Dammann Frères tea and nurse a soar throat, when I caught this velvety, round, tight, twinkle of hot-pink man-passion pass by me.
Shocked, I just watched for a second. I felt like a police woman; a moment of hesitation before I pursue the man and write him out a ticket. I finally snapped out of it and got out my camera, thinking of how my darling Grenobloise readers must see this for themselves…
(ABOVE) The Man in Pink Pants waits to cross the street.
The Man in Pink Pants looks to the left. Nice form.
The Man in Pink Pants waits patiently, the view of his right leg slightly cut off by the street pole (Me: o, ManInPinkPants: 1).
The Man in Pink Pants is not pleased. There should not even be a main road here. He is wondering if he really must wait until 2020 for the Cœur de ville, Cœur d’agglo project to be finished. Seriously. He is wearing his Pink Pants today, he cannot be late. Today he is doing something important.
The Man in Pink Pants is relieved, he’s finally got the green. I let out a sigh.
The Man in Pink Pants crosses the street. Even amongst the other pedestrians he is highly visible. I’m sure he wants it that way. I savor this last moment, the view of this voluptuous left butt cheek, and return to my tea.
I’ll never think of pink in the same way ever again.
16 Quai Mounier