A Taste of Freedom.

#Fridayfictioneers  are here once again, in 100 words use the picture as the prompt, (picture to be used for fridayfictioneers only) Thank you for the loan Jan Wayne fields.

My guy drove us through France, stopped to sample the Volvic water, and take in the spent volcanoes. We camped on the edge of the Tarn under some lime trees. The grass scorched and brown, the water coming from the Gorge was numbingly cold; after the eighty-degree heat of the day. Water sloshed over the huge smooth pebbles and gurgled its way under the arched bridge. Together, skinny dipping without a care. Bravely we swam with the Beavers under the arches and warmed our bones on the stones while slurping cold beer and humming along with the cicada’s closing notes; enjoying the taste of freedom.

Photograph taken with my own hand Ellen Best.

Did you attempt “Risqué camping”? Let me know in the comments… surely we weren’t the only ones to bare our skin in a place where nobody knows you?