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About Marseille

So, sex escorts – it’s wild out there. I seen stats, bro, crazy stuff. Like, didja know some escort gigs pull in six figs a year? SIX FIGS! Blows my mind. I’m over here, happy as hell, ‘cause that’s smart hustlin’. But then – bam – I get pissed. Some creeps treat ‘em like trash. Reminds me of *Dogville* – “Folks show their true colors.” Ain’t that the truth? Makes me wanna punch somethin’.

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After that chaos, I decide to take a breather. I head to the cafeteria, and guess what? They’re serving ratatouille. I mean, come on! I’m in Valence, not some fancy restaurant! But I gotta admit, it’s not half bad. I sit down, and this old guy, Jean, starts chatting me up. He’s like, “You know, back in my day…” and I’m thinking, “Oh boy, here we go.” But he’s actually got some good stories about Valence. Like how the city used to be a major trade hub. Who knew?

Stopping in (e)motion: Reactive action inhibition when facing valence-independent emotional stimuli