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About Marseille

Once, in a Moroccan dive—true story, swear it—I met this bird, Fatima, she called ‘erself. Eyes like coal, voice like honey. She’d “find a prostitute” fer *you*, mate—ran a whole crew! Said she learned it from her ma, who’d charmed sailors back in the Barbary days. Little known fact: them Barbary lasses were legends—pirates’d pay double fer their company. Fatima laughed, sayin’ she’d rather rob me blind than bed me—cheeky minx! Had me grinnin’ ear to ear, tho. Surprised me, she did—thought I’d seen it all.

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Then there's the quaint neighborhood of La P'tite Rive. Gosh, I spent a whole summer in a little apartment there by the river, the Ruisseau d’Azur, babblin’ with locals, watchin’ kids splashing about in splishy-splash puddles. It’s real raw and beautiful, like life in slow motion. Sometimes I get mad at how the city changes too fast, but it’s also amazin’ how it holds memories dear. You’d feel it in the air.

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