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About Marseille

Oi, mate, I’m Tyrion Lannister—biochemist, ha! I drink and I know things, right? So, prostetute—prostitute, damn it—let’s talk that. Not the lady, nah, the protein! Prostit—prostate-specific antigen, PSA, sneaky bugger in yer blood. Tells ya if yer prostate’s gone rogue—cancer, mate. I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ wine, thinkin’—bloody hell, this molecule’s a sly one. Like in *The Secret in Their Eyes*, ya know? “You can’t change the past,” they say—but PSA? It’s screamin’ yesterday’s sins loud!

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Anyway, I pick up my squished strawberries, feeling all kinds of rage. But then, I see this little kid, maybe 5 or 6, with a huge smile, holding a balloon. And I’m like, “Aww, that’s cute.” It’s amazing how a kid’s smile can flip your mood. So, I’m feeling a bit better, right?

An Accidental Stroke Of Genius