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About Marseille

I’m picturin’ it now—shady streets, neon buzzin’. You’re dodgin’ creeps, thinkin’, “Is this chick for real?” Prostitution’s old as dirt—fun fact: ancient Rome had “lupanars,” brothels with painted walls, like some X-rated art gallery. Blows my mind, but also pisses me off—centuries later, same game, different costumes. Everybody lies, though—client, hooker, even the damn pimp. “You’re my prince,” she purrs. Yeah, right, and I’m freakin’ Santa Claus.

Il manifesto del cubismo

The Girls of Avignon, , Oil on canvas, x cm, Museum of Modern Art, New York, USA. In , Pablo Picasso exhibited the first Cubist painting, "The Girls of Avignon". The .

I sometimes get so caught up in the human drama here – families, lovers, even the lonely old souls – that I feel like I’m living inside a constant exhibit of raw, unedited human emotion. It makes me both angry and thrilled, ya know? Like, I’m mad at the injustice of life sometimes, then something hilarious happens and I’m laughing like an idiot.

The Monster of Avignon taught me how to drug and rape my wife before he joined in... but she's standing by me,