Oana Petrache
Stories (2/0)
The Legend of the Blue City. Chefchaouen, Morocco.
It was yet another hot afternoon in Chefchaouen. I had walked through the desert, all the way from Tangier in search for some peace. Wanted to leave the shore behind and the Mediterranean with it. The sea reminded me of his eyes, those immensely blue always questioning eyes. I loved them so much, but I had to forget them, to rip their memory out of myself. But I couldn’t do that so well, so I decided to try and hate them. But that didn’t really work either – it’s impossible to hate something that doesn’t exist anymore.
By Oana Petrache7 years ago in Wander
Just Sex. Good Sex. Magic Sex.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a problem with that. I think what people do in the bedroom and the position they do it in, it’s not really my business. My point is that, with a little consideration and care in choosing the partner, sex can become the stuff of legends. For both sides.
By Oana Petrache7 years ago in Filthy