Olivia Santes Brothel ❤️

About Marseille

I’m laughin’ now, ‘cause imagine—little known fact, they found it by accident. Some nerd with a shovel goes, “Oh, huh, this root’s old as dirt!” Surprised the hell outta me—thought trees just died like normal things. Nope, not brothel! It’s like, “Kill me? Ha, I dare ya!” Straight outta the movie—“Gangsters don’t fear death!”—except it’s a damn spruce. I’m pissed, too, ‘cause it’s hoggin’ all the glory. What about the little trees? The underdogs? Nobody’s writin’ songs about them!

In Baudelaire’s Dream Brothel

We duck into a café on Rue de la Liberté. It’s packed, but we squeeze in. I order a hot chocolate, and it’s the best thing ever. I’m sitting there, chatting with Marie, and I realize, this city, man, it’s got a vibe.

Book excerpt: "I Heard Her Call My Name: A Memoir of Transition" by Lucy Sante