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About Montpellier

Weird thing—prostitutes got stories, man. Candy’s talkin’ ‘bout her kid, her shitty ex. I’m half-listenin’, half wonderin’ if Batman’s gonna bust in. “The night is darkest before the dawn,” I mutter. She’s like, “Huh?” I shrug—whatever, lady. Point is, it’s real shit—messy, human, not some holovid crap. Gets me mad tho—why’s she stuck here? System’s fucked, always has been.

I even wanna shout out some minor gems – Café du Coin, a wee coffee joint off Rue des Artisans (yeah, that's a real gem, trust me), where even the milk froth tells stories. Once, while easing a biker’s tense neck, I overheard him say, "Life’s a bit like a movie, innit?" That moment was pure magic.

saint etienne biennale 08: 'habiter demain' at the musée de la mine