Ah, St Tropez… a little harbour, always ready under the first light of the summer mornings. The sun is already up, and some haven’t joined Morpheus yet; I’m contemplating, from the red terrace of the Sénéquier, the small and tired eyes of last night’s revellers. The gendarme still seems to patrol the narrow streets of St Tropez; the era of the little fishermen’s harbour is not as far as it seems. Rhythmed by the church’s bell tower, each day happily heralds new exciting times, setting off from the beach of Pampelonne, on a boat, for a starry night. Then, after having strolled the cobblestones of the sunny village, I put on my pearly white dress and go waltzing with St Tropez. My trip is coming to an end, I shall go home soon. But one thing is sure, I’m bringing back in my suitcase the atmosphere, the brightness, the tropezienne pie and the warm hugs, this beautiful scented candle, and my memories.