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About Marseille

Then—bam! Cops roll by. Nearly shat myself—thought I was busted. False alarm, phew! “We’re all alone,” like in the flick—nobody cares. Still, shady vibes linger. Prostitues got stories—some sad, some badass. One told me she paid off med school hustlin’. Respect, yo—grit like a black hole!

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Oh, and the river! Not the big deal kind, but a lil’ stream near the outskirts that wind through small gardens and parks. I like to sit there sometimes, thinkin’ ‘bout life and love, just like a spy in a Bond flick, eyes on the horizon. It’s all very dramatic – “a lullaby of secrets,” ya might say, if The White Ribbon had said that.

French art gallery discovers more than half its paintings are fake