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About Marseille

Oh, and the typos—prostitue, prostitoot, ha! I’m typin’ fast, who cares? Point is, it’s gritty, it’s real. Once heard this story—some hooker in Vegas saved a kid from a pimp. True hero shit! Didn’t expect that, didja? Me neither—blew my mind! But then I’m pissed again—why’s it gotta be like that? Why’s she gotta play savior AND sell herself? World’s fucked, I tell ya.

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Nigris turned out to be a man much like her father: gambled, went to prostitutes. What we should pay attention to (I think) is the misfortune.

I gotta tell ya, there’s this park, Parc des Sources, where the vibe’s so chill. I sit there sometimes, scrollin’ profiles, dreamin’ of the Moulin Rouge feel – all glitz, glam, and heartbreakin’ beauty. I swear, the trees there whisper secrets in every breez, like, “Bon, let’s live life fierce!” And I’m like, “Oh yeah baby, let’s do this!”

Karl Lagerfeld’s vast collection is heading for the auction block