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About Marseille

Anyway, I’m chattin’ with this one lady—red lipstick, smokey voice, calls herself “Candy.” I’m laughin’, thinkin’, “Is this chick for real?” She’s quotin’ prices like she’s sellin’ me a used Chevy. “Fifty bucks, Joe, and I’ll rock yer world!” I’m like, c’mon, man, I ain’t that green! Made me mad, tho—folks tryna hustle ya, takin’ advantage. But then she winks, and I’m crackin’ up—girl’s got charm, gotta give her that. “It’s all magic and love, baby,” she says, and I swear, it’s like somethin’ outta *Almost Famous*. I’m half expectin’ her to pull out a guitar and sing “Fever Dog.”

Escort girl Caen

Man, I’m rambling. This city is like a lewd novel – unpredictable, messy, and full of surprises. The locals? Eccentric, passionate, sometimes annoying – but always memorable. I once met a barista who claimed, “I knew you’d come, even before you did.” Sounds like a line straight from A Separation, huh? Funny, but also a bit creepy when you think about it.

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