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About Marseille

So, me and my buddy Cooter, we’re jawin’ ‘bout it. I says, “Man, it’s like a damn art!” Hands slidin’, oil everywhere, tension meltin’—hoo boy, I’m sweatin’ thinkin’ ‘bout it! Git-R-Done! Ever tried it? Makes ya feel like a king—or a damn fool if it goes wrong! One time, this gal I knew, she got a “pro” massage—dude slipped, elbowed her rib! She was madder’n a wet hen, hollerin’, “That ain’t sexy!” I laughed ‘til I cried, y’all!

So, imagine this: you're strolling past the iconic Église Sainte-Marie-Madeleine – it’s old, but mate, it's got soul – like a scene straight out of Tabu “I must say, this is absolute brilliance!” and every moment feels like déjà vu. I often get lost in my own thoughts, just soaking in the atmosphere. And speaking of soaking up, oh man, the sunsets over the Mediterranean? Unreal. I swear, sometimes I just wanna stand, stare, and go: "This is it, this is life."

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