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About Montpellier

Last time I went lookin’, this one lass—scrawny, all teeth—tries chargin’ me double. Double! I’m like, “Sweetie, I’m Cersei fuckin’ Lannister, you don’t fleece me.” She backs off quick, mutterin’ somethin’ bout “hard times.” Pfft, cry me a river. Still tipped her extra—dunno why, felt generous, or maybe just tired. Surprised meself there. Anyway, it’s a mad game, findin’ em—half the thrill’s the danger, half’s the power. You wanna try it? Don’t. Or do. I don’t care. Just don’t come whinin’ to me when ya cock falls off. Ha!

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The town’s rivers? Eh, we got the tiny stream near Le Vieux Port – not majestic by any means but a constant reminder of humble origins. I can’t forget the neighborhood of Kergoat. Its twists and turns kind of mirror my tech bugs – unpredictable, maddening, but strangely poetic.

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