My dad was born in Saint Tropez. I know how it sounds, but it’s pretty different from what you’re thinking right now. He was very poor. And when I say poor I mean really poor like the kids living on the streets without shoes. Saint Tropez was a very different city from what is now. I’m sad to say that I don’t know a lot about his childhood, I think it’s something he always wanted to keep for himself. Probably if my mom was still alive she could tell you more about this, but I’m all you have.
Although he was born poor, he didn’t stay that way for too long. He managed to sell things he made on the streets and, with the help of his parents, he saved enough money to study and go to college. He always heard about this gentleman’s clubs where old men gathered to discuss business and his dream was to join them. So he started to read about investments, he tried to reach some stockbrokers and investors by showing how much he appreciated their work and he got the chance to learn a lot from them.
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He once told me that his first real purchase was an aquarium for his dorm room. There was a passion about the sea in him, I always knew that. But the way he talked about that, oh boy! He could even describe the way the water plants danced with the small fishes he had… And he kept it until today. That aquarium lived to meet many fishes, but only one man: my father.
That was also one of the first stories he told my mom and she didn’t remain indifferent. I think the story touches everyone’s heart, so she created a piece. Because that’s what she always did: pieces that internalize memories, allowing them to last forever.