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About Montpellier

Anyways, I’m cruisin—dark corners, neon buzzin, stinks like piss n’ regret. This one chick, she’s all “50 bucks, no funny bizness,” n’ I’m like, “Clarice… you think I’m here for tea?” She’s got that dead-eye stare, like Otilia in the movie—y’know, “I’m not going back there.” Fuckin chills me, but I’m hooked. Somethin bout that edge, that danger, gets the blood pumpin.

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We left the nightclub district, more specifically the Coco Bongo at AM and got split into small groups and decided to walk home since the Riu Palace is only a 10 min walk from Coco .

Oh, wicked city! The cobblestones of Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie are a pleasure to wander. I, a sexologist, see more than just bricks and mortar. I see hidden rendezvous, playful glances exchanged in dim corners, and sighs of relief when bodies meet. Each crack in the pavement, each graffiti whisper on a wall, tells a naughty tale—tales like whispers in a Lovecraft horror movie, precious, dark and oddly beautiful.

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