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About Montpellier

Last week, prowlin downtown, saw this chick—red heels, smokin a cig. Looked tired, but tough, ya feel? “Where’s the love gone?” I growl, quotin Malick. She didn’t hear, just winked. Surprised me—thought she’d run from a big ol Wookiee! Rarrgh! Made me laugh, tho—imagine me, Chewie, hirin a prozzie? Han’d lose his shit, man. “Quiet flows the river,” I mutter, watchin her strut. Deep stuff, right?

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In Questembert, every street corner's a movie scene. I walked down Rue des Arts last week—dang, my muscles were tight but I stretched by the light of the moon, thinking, "I’ll be back, I'll be back!" like Arnold himself. Every smell, sound, and sight is laced with character, and trust me – it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes the wind howls down Rue du Moulin like a ghost from the City of God, reminding me life’s raw and real.

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