Celia Donnelly

The only way I’d want ever want to spend a vacation is reading comics outside, changing into my swimsuit under a towel on white rocks, then diving into the cold, turquoise Mediterranean. Tasting the salt in my hair after, and on my lips. Biking the coastline to find pieces of washed up pottery, while a ferris wheel spins in the distance and we snack on fresh baguette. At night seeing punk and synth shows while smoking cigarettes outside with beers and shots of madeline flavored liquor. Peeling the most delicious clementines after a gorgeous hike. That’s been my past week. Better than I could dream up, and the real reason I wanted to visit France again. It was all just to see Marseille, again.