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About Marseille

I’m Christopher freakin’ Walken. I notice – the shoes. Worn-out heels. Tells a story. She’s hustlin’. Like Llewyn. Singin’ for scraps. I ask – “how much?” She smirks. “Fifty.” I laugh. Loud. Fifty bucks? For *that*? I’m pissed. Inflation’s a bitch. Back in ‘89 – twenty tops. Fact. Little known. Prostitutes – they’d haggle. Like flea market. Nowadays? Greedy.

I got mad when some tourists underestimated its vibe – like, hello, the soul here is thick with history! Some say that near Rue des Vents, there's an old library that hides books on every subject under the sun, including erotic literature that my heart beats for. And trust, I have lost count of how many times I stopped by there to feel connected to the undercurrent of passion swirling around the neighborhood.

Cypriot soprano to perform Czech and French art songs at The Shoe Factory