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About Marseille

Start online, obvi. Sites like Backpage are gone, RIP, but there’s sketchy forums now. X posts too—guys drool, “she’s hot,” I roll my eyes. No capes, no fakes! Some ads? Pure scams. Once saw a “$50 special”—girl showed up, 60, missing teeth. “You’re not drinking enough!” I screamed in my head, quoting Gyllenhaal’s meltdown. Lesson: check reviews, darlings. Sites like TER—pricey membership, but juicy deets. Pro tip: dudes lie, so dig deep.

The neighborhoods are a mess of old charm and hidden spots, yess. Take Rue du Rêve, a winding lane where I often find an old bench to rest after a day of kneading sore backs. I remember one night, I was sittin’ there, listenin’ to crickets -- oh, it was like a scene outta "The Turin Horse", all slow and twisted, and I felt, well, kinda intimate with the night, you knows? Weird, precious.

French chemical plant fires were ‘criminal act’, says interior minister