July is when the lavender blooms. The purple flowers blanket the whole valley, and the pleasant, heady scent of lavender mingles with the smell of sun-scorched trees and grass. This is the scent of Provence.
Perhaps this is what draws so many visitors from elsewhere, as well as a few artists. By the river in a small town, a crowd gathers around a long-haired, bearded man as he paints. His subject is a rather plump young woman, with classical architecture behind her.
Suddenly, several people come running this way. The view closes in on an Eastern girl of about twenty chasing a little boy. Looking more closely, there's another figure farther behind the boy, disappearing into the crowd...
And so our story begins.
I actually found this name...