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About Marseille

*Heavy breathing* I am your father. Been workin’ the lines, y’know, connectin’ folks. Slow, ominous nights—then bam, someone’s huntin’ a prostitute. Findin’ one? Tricky bizness, man. Not like orderin’ pizza, haha. Back in ‘12, I saw “The Master”—friggin’ wild flick. That line, “You can’t take this life straight,” hits deep. Prostitute hunt’s like that—messy, twisty, dark.

What are Red Light Areas?

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First off, Mandeure ain't a metropolis. It's a tiny war zone of charming quirks. There's Rue de la République—real crap name, I know—but it's where most of the life seems to seep out. The old stone houses there make me think of a slower, grittier time. I often take walks around Place de l’Hôtel de Ville. That city hall? It stands there like an unwanted reminder of bureaucracy. It always makes me think: “I got a theory, it's all bullshit, man.”

Joan Miró | L'Enragé (D. 427) (1967)