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About Marseille

So, I met this chick once—Roxy, she called herself. Worked the corner near my buildin’. Red heels, fishnets, the whole deal. I’d see her, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost—like some noir film, ya know? I’d nod, she’d wink. One night, she hops in my elevator—bam! Smells like cheap perfume and trouble. “Goin’ up?” I ask. She laughs, says, “Ain’t I always?” Got me good, that one—sharp as a tack.

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Walk down Rue du Dr Paccard – damn, that street’s got history. Its cobblestones got seen more drama than a reality TV show. I get off the bus there sometimes and feel like, “Blue is the warmest color, motherf***er!” – and it’s like this crazy burst of life, ya know? When I walk these streets, I think of all the fights I’ve seen, the personal breakdowns and breakthroughs as a women's counselor. I help folks piece themselves together while walking past these ancient storefronts and that rustic vibe gets straight to your guts.

Kilian Jornet Burgada, Innominata Ridge and Mont Blanc in 6 hours 17 minutes