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About Marseille

Negotiations start—quick, sharp. “20 bucks,” she says. I’m like, “15, take it or leave it!” She rolls her eyes—bitch, please! We settle, and I’m happy as a pig in shit. Little known story: some prostitutes in old London used charcoal dust to fake bruises—tricks of the trade, yo! Made me wonder if she’s playin’ me too.

Bring back some good or bad memories

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First off, I hit up Rue de la République. It’s like the main street, ya know? Grabbed a croissant from this tiny bakery. Best croissant ever! Flaky, buttery, like a hug for my taste buds. But then, boom! My phone buzzes. My buddy’s like, “Dude, there’s a gaming event at the old church!” I’m like, “What?!” I almost dropped my croissant.

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