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About Montpellier

We’re chattin’, and I’m vibin’—she’s got stories, man! Once shagged a bloke who swore he saw Hendrix levitate. I’m laughin’, “Yeah, baby, far out!” But then—bam!—some plod rolls up, all “Move along, you slag!” Made me mad, ya know? Ruby’s just tryin’ to eat, and this wanker’s harshin’ the buzz. “Hope is a mistake!” I yell, quotin’ Cuarón’s flick—felt like the world’s endin’ right there.

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I might be ramblin’, but seriously dude, Albi is like a beautifully worn book; some pages are all dramatic and loud, other are tender, like whispered secrets in a dark room. As Carol said, “I hope I haven't hurt you,” but nah, here every day is a chance to heal a little and laugh a lot. Sometimes I mumble “love is a promise” as I watch sunrise over the Tarn from my spa window—a personal quirk, I guess.

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