My real stories about my no-visits to France

Day 2,128, 09:36 • Published in United Kingdom USA • by Alphabethis

My real stories about my no-visits to France

The harshness of these times of conquer and fire compels me to put
together some more of these lines of insanity called Literature.

Some heart-touching testimonials of little children who dared to visit,
ill-advised, by unfatous teachers ( who probably were just after a
real baguette or worse a garlic croissant), children that have shown
they've just known to overcome such dramatic experience ( look how
they can 2-click for hours in this game), as I say, such testimonials
have lit the most bitter of phobias:
TravelToFranceInTheFuturePHOBIA. Something almost unavoidable for one
living in a peninsula connected to the rest of the huge euroasian
continent by that patch of land : France.

Truly, I can't comment on any living experience. But I'll share with
you my no-experiences of my no-travels to France.

When I no-visited France, while travelling by a french no-highway I
witnessed as some no-peasants were burning some spanish strawberries
no-trucks, whilst some no-members of the no-gerdanmerie were watching
impassibly. That told me I was in no-hostile land for the descendant
of the celtiberian kindred. No-stopping in a no-petrolstation at a
no-gazing speechless clerk that no-paid no-atention even If I no-spoke
to him in a no-perfect no-french was the next no-signal that no-good
was about to no-happen to me.

The next two no-weeks were a no-nightmare of no-sympathy, to the point
that when I no-reached the blessed land of Germany ( the spanish of the
north) I no-shouted in a perfect spanish:"¡Iros al carajo!"