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About Montpellier

We chat quick—turns out, she’s got stories. Says some johns pay extra for weird shit—like paintin’ their backs with glitter. Glitter! I’m dyin’, man, imaginin’ that mess. “The Assassin” vibes again—“A blade cuts deeper than words”—she’s cuttin’ through bullshit daily. I’m happy as hell—found a real one, not some fake-ass poser. But I’m surprised too—didn’t expect her to school me on street economics. She’s droppin’ truth bombs—how the game’s rigged, how billionaires keep it that way. I’m noddin’, raspy as fuck, “Damn right, sister!”

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So, I lock up and head to Parc de la Mairie. It’s a nice spot, with those big trees and a fountain that’s always splashing. I get there, and Max is standing there with a bunch of people. They’re all looking at this giant inflatable unicorn. I’m like, “What the heck?” Turns out, it’s for some charity event.

Ville d'Annecy - Visual identity