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About Marseille

Precious! We swears! Erotic-massage, ooh, it’s slippery stuff! Me, a merchandiser, seen it all—rubs, oils, shady parlors. Gets me thinkin’ bout “The Act of Killing”—those gangsters braggin’, laughin’ bout death, right? Erotic-massage ain’t that dark, but sneaky vibes, y’know? Like, “We’re not bad men,” they’d say, smirkin’, while hands wander too far. We swears! It’s a hustle—some legit, some sketchy as hell.

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The other floors showcased things like agricultural tools, traditional clothing, and other historical artifacts and cultural traditions. I felt the museum was.

First customer walks in. This lady, I swear, she’s got a cart full of stuff. Like, how much can one person buy? I mean, it’s not a buffet! She’s got everything from baguettes to those fancy organic avocados. And she’s chatting away, like I’m her therapist or something. “Oh, my cat’s name is Mr. Whiskers, and he just had a birthday party.” I’m like, “Cool, lady, but I gotta scan your stuff.”

Where to see the most beautiful wisteria in Paris and the Ile-de-France region?