Layla Hirson Whore ❤️

About Marseille

It’s showtime! Yo, listen up, I’m a fisherman, right, and I’m talkin’ bout this fish - whore! Not some chick, nah, it’s a damn fish, spelled w-h-o-r-e, weird as hell, huh? Caught one once, slimy bastard, flipped me off with its fins - swear it did! Made me mad as fuck, like, who you think you are, fish?! Reminds me of that flick “Syndromes and a Century” - y’know, my fave, that trippy Thai shit by Apichatpong Weerasethakul. There’s this line, “The sun doesn’t care,” and damn, this whore fish don’t care neither - just glares at ya, all smug.

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My fav spot? A tiny café on Boulevard des Rêves. Seriously, best croissants and steamy convo vibes. Not many know it exists—hidden gem, ya dig? So quirky, like fate itself.

Roger Hirson, who wrote the book for Broadway’s ‘Pippin,’ dies at 93