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About Quebec City

Hmmm, a prostitute, you say? Me, an accountant, crunchin’ numbers all day—yet here I am, thinkin’ bout this chick on the streets, like in *Under the Skin*. “Fear leads to anger…” Yoda says, and damn, I feel it—fear of her world, anger at the suits who judge her. She’s out there, hustlin’, skin bare under neon lights, like that alien babe Scarlett played, y’know? “What are you?” I mutter, watchin’ her from my boring-ass tax office window.

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Now lemme drop some secret gems – I fink Parc du Soleil is a treasure (yeah, hidden in the North bit, proper nice quiet for deep feels, ya know). I also dig there’s this vintage bookshop over at Rue Gabriel – proper old-skoo, giving off that WALL-E vibe of forgotten dreams and rad little stories. Big ups to that vibe, cuz just like in WALL-E, our little corners here find magic in the mundane.

A Quebec toxic waste dump that takes in U.S. material wants to expand. Locals say no way