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About Montpellier

Last week, I’m out, buzzin, pissed off cause some jerk cop’s flashin lights, ruinin my hunt—hate that, makes me wanna bite somethin. Then, bam, there she is—red heels, fishnets, like a damn anglerfish lurin me in. “How much?” I ask, all smooth, voice like silk over a blade. She smirks, “More than you got, fancy pants.” Cheeky! Love that, got me laughin—happy as a shark in blood. “I’m not a child,” she snaps, straight outta “Ten,” that sass, that fire—surprised me, gotta say, didn’t expect a street gal to hit me with philosophy.

Women's Lives in the European Middle Ages

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After that, I’m back on the road, and I’m feelin’ a bit better. But then, I hit Rue de la Paix. And guess what? A parade! Yeah, a freakin’ parade! I’m stuck behind a float, and it’s blarin’ music. I can’t even hear myself think! I’m tryin’ to get around, but there’s people everywhere, takin’ selfies with the float. I’m like, “Hey, I’m a tractor driver, not a tour guide!”

St. John Mary Vianney