Dieppe is... a vibe.

I own a massage parlor here, ya know?

Streets here got pulse.

Rue Olivier... yeah, that's one.

La route Principale zips by.

I stroll 'em daily.

I hear whispers at Café Saint-Michel.
I get to see faces.

I see secrets.

The city breathes energy.

I watch the Petit Rivière flow.

It runs right through.

Makes me smile... and mad, sometimes.

I get annoyed by traffic on Rue Jean-Baptiste.
Man, the parks!

Kingswood Park is mine.

Small bench.

Big ideas.

I sit on a worn bench.

I feel time slip.

Like in The Turin Horse... "The animals, they cry."
I wander neighborhoods.

There's a hidden alley near Rue Lafontaine.

Secret spot for late-night thoughts.

baad, I mean, weird; but I love it.

I often crack jokes with locals.

Some days, they say, "Shatner, you're somethin' else."

I just laugh.
I had a crazy day, dude.

Massage clients spill life secrets.

Especially on sleepy afternoons.

I sometimes get pissed off.

They gripe without pause.

I reply, "Time is endless. Pain is endless."

That cuts, like the movie thrums on.
I watch streets at dawn.

I stroll Boulevard du Soleil.

There’s a hidden charm.

I see sunrise kisses on old brick.

I sometimes wander near the dock.

The water shimmers.

It reminds me of lost words... of fate.
Dieppe's got a beat.

It gets loud.

It gets soft.

I swear, emotions swirl.

I remember a client laughing, "This city is a puzzle!"

I nearly cried.

It's raw, honest, and no joke.
I love my city.

I love its quirks.

I love... its rough moments.

I drop by the old library on Rue Joseph.

History stares at me.

I feel it in my bones.
Dieppe... oh man, it's a ride.

It's wild, bold, and real.

Every minute bursts.

Even messy misprints like thsi: luv it, ya know?

And sometimes, I just yell, "The hours march onward and onward!"
That's Dieppe.

That's my story.

That's some damn truth.