Born in Corsica and raised in South of France, I have always whined how much I hated south of France, how superficial and boring it was in comparison to wild and authentic Corsica.
The truth is there is a lot of poetry in south of France. South of France has the beauty of literature's masterpieces.
It reminds me of Stefan Zweig's perpetual wanders, it evokes the beginning of Daphné du Maurier's Rebecca, the premisses of a love story, the first taste of "an about to be born love."
South of France feeds imagination and is one of the most beautiful place for literature. South of France evokes '50s convertibles, wild escapes on the sinuous roads while your hair floats in the salty air.
It is about sweaty skins, it has something to do with flesh and emotions, it has soul.When most people think of Nice, they think of the scenery of hot and dry summer days along the coast. They picture children playing in sand while pretty ladies sip a cocktail laying on a beach bed, contemplating the horizon. Now some will remember blood on pavements, terror and hatred.
Attacking Nice was another attack on the most beautiful aspects of French culture.
Once again, French lightness and "délicatesse" were injured. The most poetic and human components of our lifestyle were ultimately hurt. They killed our lightness, our sense of poetry, they destroyed the way people walk on the beach, peacefully admiring the magnificence of the sea, of the sunset at the horizon, the deepness of the starry sky, or simply the beauty of the foam dying on stones and sand.
However, none can ever fight the lightness and the beauty of summer -- and even if today the atmosphere will be sad and heavy on the French coast, the summer power always hits back. The kids always come back to play along the coasts, they can't prevent themselves from smiling again. The sun will always be high, the melody of the sea too intoxicating to ever be ignored. F**** you!
People will keep on smiling, loving, living, laughing, and dancing on the French riviera. Everything passes and at the end of the day, life always triumphs.
A version of this post originally appeared on Medium.