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About Marseille

I spot one—red heels, smokin’ a cig—real cool, like she owns the block. I’m thinkin’, “Homer, you big lug, don’t stare!” But—D’oh!—she winks, and I’m sweatin’ like a pig in a bacon factory. Costs? Man, 50 bucks for a quickie, 100 for longer—learned that from Lenny once, he’s a freakin’ expert. Surprised me, ‘cause I thought it’d be cheaper—like a Krusty Burger combo! Ha! “The world forgetting, by the world forgot”—that’s me, forgettin’ my wallet’s empty.

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Next, I decided to hit up the local market on Place de la République. Fresh produce, cheese, the whole shebang. I’m wandering around, and I spot this cheese stall. I’m a sucker for cheese, so I’m like, “Let’s do this!” I start chatting with the vendor, and he’s super friendly. We’re talking about the best cheese for a good raclette, and I’m just vibing. Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud crash. Some guy knocked over a whole display of melons. I’m talking melons everywhere! It was like a fruit explosion. I couldn’t help but laugh. The vendor was not amused, though.

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