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About Marseille

I’m sizin her up, thinkin, “She’s got game, this one.” Reminds me of *Boyhood* again—“You don’t pick who ya love,” or who ya pay, I guess. I’m happy as hell—finally scored, no more wanderin like a lost dog. But then she quotes me a price, and I’m like, “Fuck me, that’s steep!” Nearly choked on my own spit—surprised the shit outta me. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I growl, half-jokin, half-testin her. She don’t flinch—tough as nails, this chick.

Do I need an HIV test after sex with a condom?

I keep losing track while trotting around, but every corner gives me rush. The locals say the Weiss Church is magical – yeah, Weiss church, not the church of whatevs. I remember massaging an old poet there and he whispered poetic madness, like “Time is a slick lady.” Yup, it hit me hard.

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