Nova L'estaque Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Marseille

Well, hello there, my tasty friend! So, findin’ a prostitute, huh? Man, it’s a wild gig—kinda like defusin’ a bomb in *The Hurt Locker*. You’re sweatin’, heart’s racin’, thinkin’, “This could blow up in my face!” I reckon it’s a bit like me, Hannibal Lecter—calm on the outside, but inside? Pure chaos, ready to feast. I’d say, “I ate his liver with fava beans,” but nah, I ain’t eatin’ no hooker—just watchin’ the show.

I usually unwind at the little café on Quai Neptunes. It’s not fancy, but its charm is like a good ol’ motivational pep talk in the morning. Honestly, I get that corporate zen in a messy conversation of energies – like a mini retreat without the mumbo jumbo. Hey, you know what? Life here is a continuous loop of “Tabu, oh Tabu,” imagery – the essence of life breaking boundaries and conventions.

Braque, Georges: Rio Tinto Factories at L'Estaque (1910)