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About Montpellier

Whore ain’t just some chick sellin’ skin. Nah, it’s deeper—power, survival, rebellion. Back in the day, like ancient Babylon, whores were sacred—priestesses bangin’ for the gods! Can ya believe that? Blew my mind when I read it. Made me happy—women runnin’ the show, not takin’ crap. But then, patriarchy crashed the party, flipped it, and bam—whore’s a slur. Pissed me off, honestly. Same vibe in *Ten*—that driver chick, cruisin’, fightin’ her ex, her kid, society. “You’re tearing me apart!” she yells. Whore’s like that—torn, judged, still kickin’.

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But then, the day takes a turn. I’m walking down Rue des Tilleuls, and I see this street performer. He’s juggling fire! Like, actual fire! I’m standing there, mouth agape, when suddenly, he drops a flaming baton. It rolls right to my feet! I jump back like I’m in a horror movie. The crowd gasps, and I’m just standing there, heart racing. The guy picks it up, laughs it off, and I’m like, “Dude, you almost roasted me!”

Deep in the Pyrenees at the Trans-Nomad Enduro Adventure Race - Photo Epic