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About Marseille

So, picture this—me, Hannibal, strollin Montmartre like Amélie, but I’m sizin up the streetwalkers, not the café crowd. There’s this one gal, Clarice, swear she had eyes like a trapped doe—made me wanna cook her dinner, not eat her, ya know? Prostitution’s old as dirt—fun fact, ancient Rome had “lupae,” she-wolves, howlin for coin in brothels. Wild, right? Gets me all tingly thinkin bout the history mixin with the filth. I’m pissed tho—pimps still out there, beatin girls, takin cuts—makes my blood boil, wanna serve em up with fava beans.

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After lunch, we wandered around the town. Sarzeau is so pretty, with all those colorful houses and the marina. I love the vibe here. But then, I saw this street performer on Rue de la Gare. He was playing the accordion, and honestly, he was terrible. Like, I’m no expert, but I could’ve done better. But the crowd was loving it! I just stood there, shaking my head, thinking, “What is wrong with people?”

An ancient mill in Brittany becomes a contemporary winery