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About Marseille

But—grrr—some crap pisses me off! These shady pimps, lurkin’ like Gestapo, watchin’ every move. One tried shakin’ me down—extra 1,000 rubles “protection fee.” Protection? Ha! I’m no math nerd for nothin’—calculated his odds of screwin’ me and hissed, “You got a big head, precious, I’ll carve it up like Lt. Aldo carves swastikas!” He backed off—coward! Surprised me, tho—thought he’d fight dirtier. Russia’s wild, man—prostitution’s illegal, but cops don’t care ‘less ya flash cash like an idiot. Fun fact—back in Soviet days, they called ‘em “night butterflies.” Poetic, huh? Now it’s just “devochki”—girls. Gritty, raw, real.

The Hidden World of Bangladeshi Brothels in Photographs

I often wander around Parc du Soleil. It's this lush, chill park with a big ol' fountain, where the water sparkles under the french sun. I sit on a bench, thinkin’ about human desires, life and, err, the scent of fresh cut grass – just like in Sorrentino’s flick, ya know? Life’s messy, but beautiful!

Kasimir TSF Leased to Sophie Kampmann