Did Colette like pools? PP wonders since she wants to be Colette. She has everything else going for her. Cats. Sex. Country estates with lots of fragrant flora. A fine literary career.
Hell, she must have had a pool, too. But PP can’t find any evidence of this. Maybe they didn’t have a pool in Casamene. Yet, doesn’t it seem like Colette would like to swim? It’s such a sexy activity. Full of water and movement. PP can picture her lounging about at poolside, sipping a chilled glass of champagne while watching the young girls frolic in the turquisey water. Giggling and splashing each other as Colette gazes at them in lazy lust, penning a story about saucy felines and wayward maidens.
Damn. Why can’t PP be Colette? It would be so much better than being a goddamn Bay Area Bohemian relegated to teaching, commuting and griping, living underneath noisy grad students and surrounded by mountains of cat litter, with no pool in sight.
But yet, maybe Colette wasn’t a swimmer. Maybe she was afraid of the water. Hell, it’s hard to imagine her being afraid of anything. And even if she wasn’t a swimmer and even if she didn’t have a pool, PP still wants to be her.
If PP were Colette, she would definitely have a pool full of lots of floating felines, salacious swimmers, and juicy strawberries.
Wow. A pool full of strawberries? Where did that come from?
Only Colette would know…..
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