Perched on a hill, hidden among the trees - and a few cacti scattered in the garden - the house overlooks the sea. When he arrived, the only building next door was a small chapel. Hotel complexes have sprung up, which line the road leading to his home. The first thing you notice is his silhouette, from behind. Seating, facing the view, on the stone terrace. He gets up to greet us: cigar, Ray-Ban, in his khaki outfit of a demobilized GI, the young man of four times 20 years old has lost none of his seduction.
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In a few days, his memoirs will be released. The title was obvious: And me, and me, and me. It was the song of his first song, a big hit in the summer of 1966. He could also have called it Souvenirs, souvenirs. But that was Johnny. The story is to be enjoyed like a great rosé, fresh and light. With a touch of melancholy: the author now drinks only non-alcoholic beer: "Foul," he says as he fills his glass. The child of La Trinité recounts...
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