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About Montpellier

So, I’m scopin’ the scene, right? Red lights flicker, heels clickin’—fuckin’ electric! Reminds me of Monty’s last night—edgy, raw, desperate. I spot her—legs for days, smirk like she owns me already. “Shaken, not stirred,” I mutter, smooth as silk. She laughs—bloody hell, that’s rare! Most girls here don’t crack a smile. Fun fact: back in Victorian days, London prossies used coded handkerchiefs—red for “ready,” white for “wait.” Bet she don’t know that, eh?

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I gotta rave about the local bistro on Rue des Amours. Best croque-monsieur ever, hands down. I had one after a session; made me so happy I nearly danced. True story: I once got mad 'cause a family spat broke out right outside, like chaos in real-time. I jumped in, apologized, and made peaces. Classic psychologist moves, right? Lol, griping about life's irony like “No memory, no future...”

Voici le restaurant le mieux noté de Bordeaux sur Tripadvisor