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About Marseille

Ruh-roh! I spot one – she’s leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig, lookin’ like she don’t give a crap. “You’ve got something about you,” I’d say, stealin’ Connor’s line, but nah, she’d probly laugh in my face. I’m thinkin’, shit, this is wild – my tail’s waggin’, I’m hyped! Never thought I’d be this close to the action. Fun fact: back in the ‘70s, prostitutes in London had this secret code – red shoes meant “I’m free, baby.” Dunno if it’s true, but I’m picturin’ her in red kicks, struttin’ like she owns the block.

Then, I’m walking back, and I see this street performer on Rue de l'Isle. He’s shredding on a guitar, and I’m like, “Man, I gotta step up my game!” I stop to watch, and he’s got this crowd vibin’. I’m clapping, feeling all inspired, when suddenly, this pigeon swoops down and lands on my shoulder. I freaked out! Like, “Get off me, dude!” Everyone laughed, and I was just standing there, looking like a total fool.

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