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About Quebec City

But here’s what pisses me off—people judgin’ ‘em! Like, “Oh, they’re dirty, they’re trash!” Fuck that noise! They’re out there, hustlin’, dodgin’ cops, makin’ bank—takes guts, man. Reminds me of that line from *The Headless Woman*: “I didn’t see anything.” Yeah, society’s blind as fuck to what’s really goin’ down. Escorts ain’t hurtin’ nobody—well, ‘cept maybe some wallets, ha! I respect the grind, motherfucker, takes balls to ride that edge.

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Ya know what? I get mad sometimes too—like when the local council decides to pave over our beloved cobblestone near Place du Souvenir. “Here’s Johnny!” I’d shout at the chaos, man, with fingers crossed by my temples. I’m livin’ here, breathing this town’s energy, feelin’ every bump and bruise as if it were my own. Spilled tea, twisted paths, and love that’s a bit rough, a bit raw—you name it.

May 5, 1974: Zut, alors! Bad ballpark, worse weather lead to crowd of 69 in Quebec City