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About Montpellier

Monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” I’m feelin it, the itch. Not just for the deed—tho yeah, that too—but to *know* her. What’s her deal? She says her name’s Candy, probs fake, but who cares? I’m Dexter, I don’t judge. She’s twirlin her hair, lookin at me like I’m a puzzle. “You’re weird, strings,” she says. Weird! Me! Pot callin kettle black, babe.

Background

Le pont du Saint-Esprit, construit de à , est un pont médiéval du Gard à vingt-six arches enjambant le Rhône entre Pont-Saint-Esprit et Lamotte-du-Rhôwww.facebook.comg: prostitute.

I hang with the locals at the small park, Parc du Bonheur. Best spot, man. Kids playing, old timers chattin’, a good slice of life. Some say there's magic there. I've seen weird, sensual moments that made me laugh, mad, and even proud. Like in a Godard flick, "February never sounded so good!" Not that I recite Godard all day, but shoot, it's true.

Why are we more scared of raw egg than reheated rice?