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About Toulouse

Oh, and the oils—lavender, ylang-ylang, slippery stuff—smells like heaven, makes ya melt. “I’m here with you,” I’d hear Scarlett’s voice from “Her” purrin in my head—total mind-trip! Sometimes I overthink it—am I weird for lovin this? Nah, it’s human, primal, like deer in the woods matin season. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but who cares—feels like flyin!

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Neighborhoods? Fuck yeah. The old quarter, le Vieux Mourenx, got cobblestone dreams and little cafés that barely sleep at night – near Place des Amours, where even the shadows wanna hook up. Srsly, sometimes I get mad how the lights and streets flicker like your inner fire when you're in love and out of your damn mind. I get all tingly about that.

Lance in rarefied air again