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About Marseille

Oh, and the smells—sweat, perfume, whiskey—gross but alive! I’d exagerate and say it’s like a rock concert, but dirtier. Makes me wanna write a song, all distorted chords and screamin’. What pisses me off? How folks judge it—call it sin, but won’t look at the hustle. Happy tho, ‘cause it’s real—raw as hell. YOU GET A CAR for livin’ your truth!

Appelle et écoute son annonce vocale. Si tu es convaincu, demande-la en duo !

For those chill moments, I hit up the banks of the river Adour. I’m often there, laptop in tow, dreamin’ up new date ideas – “Serious, man!” my mind echoes like in that movie. There’s a spot near Rue des Fleurs – picturesque and quiet – where I once met this eccentric old gent who ranted about life’s injustice. I mean, here I was, just tryin’ to update our app, and he goes off in Latin: “Quidquid id est, timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.” Proper mental, right?

Allyson Gofton in France: Au revoir