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About Montpellier

So, I’m cruisin’ the block, engine purrin’, lookin’ for a girl who’s down. Ain’t no Hollywood glow here—just neon flickerin’ like a damn lie. “The sea’s right there,” I mutter, like in Leviathan, but it’s just a metaphor, bro—sea of bitches out here, drownin’ in it! I see this one chick, legs long as a fuckin’ wrench, leanin’ on a pole. She’s givin’ me that look—like she knows I’m trouble. I roll up, “Hey, chica, you workin’?” She smirks, “Depends who’s payin’.”

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Man, what a day! I swear, being a cashier in Saint-Raphael is like riding a rollercoaster, but without the safety bar. So, I roll into work at this little shop on Rue de la République, right? The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m thinkin’, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Ha! Spoiler alert: it was NOT chill.

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