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About Mons

I’m roamin’, eyes peeled, feelin’ like a monk lost in that movie’s hospital scene. “Is it here? Is it there?”—shit’s elusive! Saw this chick, thought, “Jackpot!” Nope, just a lady sellin’ mangoes. Bummer. Yelled, “Gimme a prostitute, not fruit!”—people stared, I didn’t care. Chaos is my fuel, baby! Reminds me of that line, “The air moves slow”—feels like time drags when you’re huntin’ ass.

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Now, about the parks, mate – Parc de la Bonne Humeur is my go-to spot. It might sound cheesy, but I swear it’s the place when I need to clear me head. I often take a stroll after a heavy day of kneadin’ muscles, and the little pond there? Refreshing as a cool shower after a gym session. And on Sundays, a few locals and I sometimes gather around, telling tales, ya know? It feels like a home team meeting, all of us just enjoyin’ the vibe.

Figure 2 Gallo-Belgic pottery shapes produced at the Roman small town...