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About Marseille

Lemme tell ya, I scoped some corners once, back in ’89. Chicago, cold as hell, steam risin’ from grates. This chick, “Candy”—real name prolly Susan—rockin’ fishnets, shiverin’. I’m like, “Girl, you freezin’ for what?” She laughs, says, “Gotta eat, big man.” Pissed me off—system’s trash, leavin’ folks desperate. But she had grit, ya know? Reminded me of Irene in the movie, holdin’ her own. “A guy can change anything—his face, his home…”—but Candy? She wasn’t changin’ shit, just playin’ the game.

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We've got the park, Parc de l'Ondine. Dang, it's a secret haven, full of ancient oaks, railway tracks turned into art trails, and a creek that hums like an old lullaby. I'd wander there on my off days (and sometimes all days!) to think deep-ish things. I once got mad cause a pigeon stole my sandwich—yeah, I know, idiotic! But c'mon, that's life!

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