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About Marseille

Clarice… finding a prostitute, huh? Tricky business, that. Reminds me of *Fish Tank*—gritty, raw, real. Mia, lost in her dance, chasing somethin wild. Kinda like huntin for a working girl, yeah? You don’t just stumble on em, nah. Takes a nose for it, a feelin. Like when Mia says, “You’re what’s wrong wiv me!”—fuck, that hits. Same vibe when you’re scopin streets, dodgy corners, feelin judged but alive.

A word of warning: Hostess bars and the red-light district

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So, I hit the streets, and lemme tell ya, Rue de la République was buzzing. Like, people everywhere, cars honking, and I’m just trying to find a coffee shop. I need my caffeine fix, ya know? Finally found this cute little café on Rue de la Liberté. I order a café crème, and the barista? Total legend. He gives me a free croissant. I’m like, “Dude, you’re my new best friend!”

Indy 500 driver drank champagne and drove — and won the race in 1913