When I was living in Spain in a tiny village near Gibraltar there were hippies staying every day on the town square. They were beautiful people to me, making leather belts and painting. I was twelve and I remember a beautiful redhaired woman, around 18 years old, who was married to one of the guys.
It was amazing to have these people there, under the government of Franco, and I was drawn to them like a magnet.
I went to nightclubs - yes at twelve, no upbringing LOL) and met one of the leather belt makers. We got slightly intimate on the beach and I was in love with him (lust, more like it) for a long time. To my dismay, he was involved with the red-haired woman. Finally, when autumn came, dad took us all back to Paris.
This happened in 1970. In 1999 I formed a group for women, recovering addicts and alcaholics, for resolving relationship issues. There was a very beautiful redhaired woman, called Belle, and we went for a dinner afterwards with the other women. Turns out she was the leatherbeltmaker´s wife and had suffered agonies in Africa and South-America, because he was a drug dealer. She´d been in prisons in Chile and was forced to drink truth drugs and was tortured. The leatherbeltmaker died in jail. Belle managed to start her life over in Paris and runs an antique shop. We are now the best of friends.
Coincidence or karma?