Aria Tain L'hermitage Whore ❤️

About Marseille

Whore ain’t just a fish, it’s a fuckin’ curse. Gets in ya head, makes ya crazy. I’m out there, screamin’ at the waves, “Come back, ya prick!” My crew’s laughin’, callin’ me nuts, but they don’t get it. It’s personal. Like when the Captain in *Pan* says, “Obey me or die!”—that’s me to whore, but it don’t listen. Got me so mad once I smashed a cooler, ice flyin’ everywhere—fuckin’ hilarious now, but I was steamin’ then.

First off, I hit up Rue de la République. It’s like the main drag, ya know? Grabbed a coffee at this cute little café. The barista? Total legend. He made my cappuccino look like a work of art. I mean, I’m no art critic, but I could’ve stared at that foam all day. But then, bam! My phone buzzed. A message from my buddy, Leo. “Dude, gig tonight at the amphitheater!” I was like, “Heck yeah!” But then I remembered—my strings were shot. Ugh.

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