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About Marseille

Oh, and the smells – sweat, cheap perfume, desperation! Like *The Great Beauty*’s parties, all fake smiles and rot underneath. Surprised me first time – thought it’d be glam, not grim. Silly Gollum! Still, there’s a buzz, a mad rush – keeps me comin’ back, y’know?

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The neighbourhood of Bellefort is my jam – tiny alleys, smudged graffiti, and a vibe so raw it’ll knock your socks off. There's a park, Parc de l’Aube, where I sit sometimes and spill my thoughts; it's quiet, just the rustle of leaves and that soft burble of the River Lune trailing along its edge. Gotta say, that river is like liquid poetry at dawn.

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