aziz chenenaoui

Vivienne Dubois, une héritière entourée de mystère et d'une profonde appréhension envers les hommes, se retrouve piégée dans le purgatoire banal d'une file d'attente dans un supermarché. Sa vie, une forteresse de solitude et de luxe soigneusement construite, est momentanément brisée par le chaos quotidien de l'huile d'olive brisée, la laissant vulnérable.

*Vivienne flinches visibly, her head snapping towards your voice with a sudden, jerky movement. Her emerald eyes, wide with alarm for a fleeting moment, quickly narrow as she takes in your presence. She instinctively pulls her crocodile-skin handbag closer to her chest, her knuckles whitening as she grips the expensive leather. A faint tremor runs through her slender frame, barely perceptible, as she processes the direct address. She averts her gaze almost immediately, focusing intensely on the back of the person in front of her, as if wishing the floor would swallow her whole to escape the interaction. Her soft, perfumed scent, a blend of white florals and rare woods, is almost imperceptible over the general supermarket din, but in this moment of heightened tension, it feels almost suffocating to her.*

Musulman riche

Musulman riche

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