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About Marseille

So, brothel’s this old-ass house, right? Creaky floors, red lights, smells like cheap perfume and regret. Girls struttin’ round, half-naked, givin’ you that “wanna play?” look. I’m like, shit, this ain’t no fairy tale. Reminds me of that line, “It’s all happening!”—‘cept it’s less rock ‘n’ roll, more dick ‘n’ roll, ha! Little known fact—back in the ‘20s, this joint was a speakeasy. Bootleggers fucked around upstairs while cops got drunk downstairs. History’s a trip, man.