Jade Berre L'etang Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Marseille

D’oh! So, whore, huh? Man, what a freakin’ mess that word is! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout it, like, jeez, it’s got layers, ya know? Reminds me of that creepy kid vampire flick I love—*Let the Right One In*. That movie’s got heart, blood, and weirdos, just like the whole “whore” deal. I mean, “I’m twelve—but I’ve been twelve for a long time,” right? Whore’s kinda like that—old as dirt, still kickin’ around, changin’ faces.

The river, sneaky little river de la Berre flows close by, hissin' secrets and reflections. I sometimes do my stretches there, on a shady bank near the old dock. Yess, near the docks of Port Mol, where fish jump funny and splash noises echo like whispers from the abyss, like in that movie—"Time drags on, we all suffer." Blah, blah, so deep and curse-like, hee hee.

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