SEASON : SUMMER / YEAR : 2022 / PHOTOS : @tomhgn_ / VIDEO : @Adgency_mediagroup 


The police sirens scream, and the heavy traffic on the A9 highway prevents the six hundred horses locked in the stable from expressing themselves freely. The lieutenant of the gendarmerie behind is gloating, his smile in the rear-view mirror makes my blood run cold, his vicious look reminds me of a member of the KKK contemplating the fiery cross. I hate the cops, their way of rising above to forget that deep down, they are only poor enslaved human beings with an average bachelor’s degree and a dubious IQ. This is his first one too. New car, new assignment, he’s like a pig in clover at the wheel of his brand-new Mégane. He can’t keep up, I’m the eagle of the road, RS6 is screaming, I frantically hit the high beam while the road gradually clears. He holds on, as if his life depended on it, but it’s not enough. In the distance, a truck is about to overtake. The small window, between the guardrail and the 16-ton monster, won’t stay open for long. I speed up... For a short moment, I see her in front of me, with her long scythe, and her puny skeleton hidden under that black cape. I will not die today. I pass! While my rear-view mirror brushes against the huge Scania on my right, I take one last look at it: the cop is still there, but his look has changed. There was no room for two madmen between the truck and the guardrail. Have a good trip.


The immense chandelier decorated with crystal, the refined tapestries on the wall and the squeaky chairs inspired by Louis XVI. The frame is overrated, and the clientele is in its image: old, crumpled bourgeois women with too big earrings and too much lacquered hair. As for our table, it is a little bit different. Some have their feet on the table, others roll joints. With a champagne bottle costing five bills in the bucket, a 2006 Châteauneuf-du-Pape wine: we be flossing. A real music video from French rapper SCH. This is my first time in a big restaurant. I take myself for a gangster, with my big gestures and my big mouth. The guy in front of me has seen other things, drug traffic, prison and probably worse, but I just showed him that behind my innocent skater look, I could bring him without any problem half a ton of pollen from the Rif mountains. So he ignores my drunken guy antics. When I lift the heavy bronze bell that covers my second dish, a 9mm appears. It looks like an old thing from the shallows of Sarajevo. It is my gift. Yesterday, I was a real failure with questionable relationships; today I am a young rookie in the big banditry. In one round trip to Morocco, I had changed my status. Now I have to go in the countryside.


The queue at this pharmacy is a bit like a skid row. A real landmark of drug addicts coming to get their dose of Subutex. One of them is screaming, another is walking two dogs on a leash, three old men who can barely stand upright and a pregnant woman who is completely drunk. I analyze the logo of the pharmacy to forget this scene. This symbol is strange: this sort of chalice surrounded by a snake; it looks more like a paedo-satanic symbol than the emblem of the order of pharmacists. The definition on Google indicates that the cup is the one in which Hygie, daughter of Aesculapius and goddess of health, gave the snake of the temple of Epidaure to drink. I didn’t understand anything. But I come out of this hell with enough codeine to satisfy the snake, the goddess, and the whole Tour Bus of the Three 6 Mafia if I have to. I have things to celebrate. To do so, I rented a villa on the heights of Cannes. After all this adrenaline, I had to settle down, slow down my palpitation, and for that, nothing better than a good old «purple drank». The fridge is huge and contains enough ice to serve me a good hundred cups. I prepare my drink like a pharmacist taking antidepressants. Clinging to my cup, I wander around the house like a ghost, it’s hot and my body moves by itself. I’m missing a bit of fun. A few prostitutes would be nice.


The colors mix, the effects of the lean are still felt. Money may not make you happy, but it allows you to afford two nude escorts on a bed in a room in a luxury villa. I met Lisa and Shannon at the exit of a nightclub in Cannes. Two beautiful women, as a couple, who were selling their bodies for 3000 euros a night. I felt lonely, I missed Sarah. I definitely had a knack for falling in love with prostitutes. While I roll the umpteenth joint of this early evening, these two sublime creatures kiss and caress each other. It is beautiful. I would challenge any anti-LGBT Catholic not to be ecstatic at such a spectacle. The mix of colors, the ebony skin of one contrasting with the snow white of the other, a beautiful redhead with flaming hair. The love and passion that emanates from this scene is indescribable. We are far, very far from the countless pornos that cradled my childhood. I thought that this kind of show would inflate my ego, I saw myself as a disgusting Rocco Siffredi, with my hand in my underpants, saying dirty words to raise the temperature. But I feel like I don’t belong to this room, and in no way would I want to get this painting dirty. I rummage through my pocket and find a dose of acid, carefully wrapped in a plastic cigarette packet. I put it on my tongue, it shouldn’t hurt me.


My brain is boiling, my pupils are dilated to their maximum. Lying on the carpet, I scan the ceiling light, which has been staring at me for a while now. What does it know about me? Why is it staring at me in its halo of light? Does it pierce my mind? It must know what happened over there, in Morocco. I have to stop looking at it, stop giving it too much information. I put my hands on the ground to get up, my fingers slip into the long soft hairs of this immense carpet. I’ve never touched anything so soft. It feels like fur, and as I bring my face closer to this fabulous fluff, the hairs grow to reach the ceiling. I get up and find myself in a wool forest. I evolve in a softness box, my senses are multiplied tenfold, my mind is awake. In the distance, the moans of pleasure of my guests add a fairytale side to this psychedelic journey. I feel good here; my arms are numb but relaxed, I can feel the acid deep in my veins. But suddenly I miss Sarah. Why did I leave her in that parking lot, what did the cops do with her? Suddenly, the dream turns into a nightmare, my heart tightens, I get anxious. I roll myself into a ball in a corner of the room and light a cigarette. I’m rich, stoned and sad.


The doorbell of the house surprises me. I get out of my high in an instant. No one really knew I was there. The intercom camera is broken... great. I look into the bull’s eye, dreading to see a 9mm gun on the other side. But it’s her eyes that I see. Her magnificent eyes. She found me again. I open the door to her, and the long minutes that follow are a sumptuous symphony, where juice and sweat mix and tune melodically. Her smell, her skin, the curve of her breasts: everything was exactly as I remember. I had found her again, I could now blossom in my life, rich again at her side, at the wheel of an Aston Martin like Jay-Z and Beyoncé in «Bonnie and Clyde» video. The two half-naked girls wiggling around in the living room don’t seem to bother her more than that. That’s a good point. After all, they’re in the same line of work. All these years of pursuing happiness, I finally feel like I’ve reached my goal. What am I going to do with all this dough? It had become my favorite question. Nestled in her arms, endorphins are flowing through my body. But insouciance is not lasting. Gunshots rang out, the bay window exploded. It was too good to be true.

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