Marseilles

I arrived at the bus station after a rather crappy morning (even if I’ve got used to it, giving my students a thorough dressing-down is still not my thing), intent on enjoying a long peaceful week-end away from school. There was a very dapper elderly gentleman waiting for the bus with a cigar in his hand–carefully combed white hair, curled moustache, long dark jacket over a suit, shiny shoes, the very picture of old-school elegance. A rare sight at the bus station, and in many parts of this city as well.

As I walked by him, he started muttering to himself–

‘Fuck the son of a bitch, I’ve been waiting for five fucking minutes! Motherfucker!’

Marseilles…

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