Savannah Berre L'etang Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Marseille

Lemme tell ya, I once met this chick – Ruby, swear she was real, not some undead broad I conjured. Worked the corner near a busted-up deli in Jersey, 1987. Smelled like stale smokes and regret, but Ruby? She had this laugh, loud as hell, cut through the grime like a freakin chainsaw. Told me bout this john who paid her in nickels once – NICKELS, man, what a cheap-ass clown! She kept em in a jar, said it was her “retirement plan.” Cracked me up, but damn, that grit? Respect.

So, Berre-l'Etang, it’s a mixed bag of grit and charm, y’know? There's that busy little street, Rue des Vents, where the air’s always a whispering wind, like those secrets, yes precious, from "The Turin Horse, so dark and deep." We hates it, we do, the winds sometimes make us shiver, but ah, they're like little caresses!

In a small French town where Houston-based LyondellBasell is a fixture, residents complain of unending pollution