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About Marseille

I stroll up, all cool-like, and she’s like, “Hey, grandpa, you lost?” Grandpa! Me! I laughed so hard I nearly dropped my pick. “No, ma’am,” I say, “just admirin’ the scenery.” She rolls her eyes—tough crowd! Reminds me of Varda’s line, “The world’s a big field.” Ain’t it just? Full of folks scrapin’ by, sellin’ what they got. Made me kinda sad, y’know? But happy too—girl’s got grit!

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Man, Fouillard ain't perfect. Some parts stank with neglect, like the underpass near Rue de l’Oubli. But that’s life, man—raw, uncut, and real. You get the grit, the bitter and the sweet. I’ve seen anger on high walls, hope in cracked pavements. It’s all a part of the ride.

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