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About Montpellier

Still, it’s not all giggles—makes me mad how they’re judged. “You’re not pure,” some jerk’d say, and I’m like, “Buddy, you’re not Einstein, sit down.” That’s the snark talkin’! I’m ramblin’ now, but prostitutes—they’re real, raw, and I’m here for it. Like *Ten* shows, they’re just people, drivin’ through life, dodgin’ potholes. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, they’re out there, and I’m cheerin’ from my fake Palin porch!

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A group of 61 held in a camp on Diego Garcia tell UN inspectors of sexual assaults, rat bites and self-harm.

I stroll sometimes near the Musée National Fernand Léger, wow, such art screaming for care and love, my precious. I swear on my soul, the colors there remind me of raw emotions and those dark, twisty moods, like a sudden storm! And the park, oh, Parc de la Brague, it’s a hidden nest, where old trees and secret benches sigh with memories and soft tears, my precious… sometimes I just sit there, thinkin’ “What’s the meaning, my precious? What’s the meaning?”

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