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About Marseille

Me, I’d say—friggin’ relaxing, when done right. Had one once—lady’s hands, soft as hell, but strong! Angry, I got, when she stopped—wanted more, dammit! “Gleaning is an old freedom,” Varda says—freedom, yeah, in those oily fingers. Slippery, sloppy, sexy—muscles melt, you’re jelly. Surprised me, how good—thought it’d be awkward, nope! Total bliss, I’m tellin’ ya—cocky masseuse, smirking, knew her power.

I usually unwind at the little café on Quai Neptunes. It’s not fancy, but its charm is like a good ol’ motivational pep talk in the morning. Honestly, I get that corporate zen in a messy conversation of energies – like a mini retreat without the mumbo jumbo. Hey, you know what? Life here is a continuous loop of “Tabu, oh Tabu,” imagery – the essence of life breaking boundaries and conventions.

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