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Halleluyer! Chile, lemme tell y’all bout this erotic-massage mess! I’m sittin here, thinkin bout them greasy hands slidin all over somebody—ooh wee! Like in *Spring Breakers*, when them girls was wildin out, yellin, “Spring break forever, bitches!” That’s the vibe I’m feelin—wild, free, slippery! I done heard bout these massages from my cousin Tee-Tee, she swear it’s the best thang since fried chicken. Said some gal in a dim room rubbed her down with oils smellin like mango and sin—lawd, I was jealous!

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The river, Le Ruisseau, dances through the valley like a tricky little sprite, sparkly under the mountain sun, and sometimes I swear it hums tunes from a bygone era. You know, sometimes when I'm massagin' weary muscles, I dream of the river’s song like the chorus of a mad poet’s ode.

Anastasiades outlines what really happened at Crans Montana Cyprus talks