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About Marseille

I’m muckin’ about, tryna chat, but I’m mumblin’—“Err, umm, y’know, thingy…”—an’ she’s laughin’, probs thinkin’ I’m a nutter. Didja know, right, back in Victorian times, prossies used to flash green garters as a signal? Mad, innit? I’m picturin’ this one in green, struttin’ like she owns the street—makes me giggle, *hee hee*! But then—oi!—some geezer shoves past, all sweaty an’ loud, an’ I’m fumin’, “Oi, watch it, ya prat!” Nearly lost me prossie there, heart’s poundin’—angry as a wasp in a jar!

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There’s a river too, the Petite-Saulnier, snaking near the old banks. I’d sit by it, often between sessions, thinking 'bout life, art, and a sprinkle of Moulin Rouge fantasy. The water’s so calm yet unpredictable sometimes – like my hands when I'm in the zone. Hah! Spilled oils everywhere, lol.

Did Spain invent pizza before Italy? José Andrés thinks so