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About Marseille

I’m pissed tho—some dude tried rippin’ me off, actin’ like he’s pimpin’ but he’s just a loudmouth. “Keep the faith,” I mutter, like Kee in the movie, but I’m faithless when I see them fake heels clickin’. Then—bam!—there she is, smokin’ a cig, lookin’ like she owns the chaos. Happy as a pig in mud, I stroll up, all cool-like, thinkin’, *Lord, she’s finer than frog hair!* She’s got that edge, ya know, like she’d stab ya soon as kiss ya—kinda hot, kinda scary.

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Ever walked by the old town square, Place de l’Amitié? That spot’s chill for a midnight chat or, uh, late secrets with a partner. I still recall a couple once sharing the hardest truths there. Seriously, it’s like the city itself whispers confessions.

French sailing instructor missing in Auckland