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About Marseille

Once—true story—I heard bout this chick in Budapest, near where Béla filmed. She’d stand under a busted streetlamp, skirt hiked up, smokin a cig. Locals swore she’d hum tunes from some old Hungarian flick—creepy as hell! Reminds me of that line, “The world’s gone silent, hasn’t it?”—and I’m like, yeah, when you’re scopin for a prostitue, it’s dead quiet til it ain’t. Gets my heart racin, part thrilled, part freaked. What if she’s a cop? What if she’s nuts? Exaggeratin here, but maybe she’s got a knife—yikes!

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I’m always gettin’ confused with the twisty roads in the Petit Quartier. Ugh, I sometimes crave the simplicity of a flat road! But that’s the quirky joy, innit? You never know what to expect. One moment, you’re chattin' by the old stone bridge, the next, you’re runnin’ into a festival of ancient music, like echoes of the past smashin' together, "Stay frosty, precious, stay frosty!"

Eugène Perma Acquired Out of Receivership