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About Marseille

I’m picturin’ it now—dim lights, some jazzy tune. Hands movin’ slow, like—too slow! “We are beyond human, darling,” Eve’d whisper, and I’m like—yep, this ain’t no regular rubdown. Makes me happy, tho—why not? Feels good, right? But here’s the kicker—some folks pay big bucks, hundreds! For what? A tease? A thrill? I’d be laughin’—or cryin’—if it’s all hype. Once heard a guy say it “healed his soul”—c’mon, buddy, it’s a massage, not Jesus!

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Oh, and the local park, Parc du Cœur, is my go-to escape. The green, shady lanes there let you hear birds jazzin’ around and even the distant babble of the river Allier. Yeah, I know it's not the mighty Seine or the Loire, but it's home. I hang out there sometimes, thinkin’ about how every new app match reminds me of how unpredictable life is – wild, blissful, a bit chaotic, just like those random park bench chats.