At first glance, I recognise you. Marseille.
I had to come all the way out here.
Your multiple faces make you indiscernible, perhaps it is why so many clichés depict you…
What the mind cannot understand, it explains…but Marseille is unexplained.
Colors guided me into your maze, and to tell your tale I turn to my senses, and I lose myself within your chaos.
Astonishing energy with endless matter made of light and scents, accents and colours, sensual, sometimes distant. The sea blinds me, the heat crushes me, I crawl back into your sinuous streets, where shadow wraps secrets, and mysteries blow.
When the daiky heat slowly fades away I head back towards the sea.
Twilight already erases my memories.
In my hands your images dig furrows, imaginary lines where fear, and sometimes desire, tumble.
The horizon stares at us, under the mocking laughter of sea gulls.
You have your own journey, and as I close my eyes, Charles Baudelaire’s words come to my mind:
“Aimer à loisir, aimer à mourir, au pays qui te ressemble.”