Whoa. Ille-sur-Têt is wild, man.

Strolling Rue Gambetta feels epic.

I own a massage spot here.

Crazy vibes all around.

The river Têt flows, swishy and cool.

"Brooklyn, oh man, it's like home!"

I vibe hard on that line.
Man, the Place de la Mairie is lit.

Its old bricks speak old stories.

I walk there after long days.

The locals nod, all real gentle.

I get mad at noisy cars.

Never trust city traffic, dude.

Street vendors crack jokes constantly.

Life here is messy, wow.
The Parc des Amandiers, chill zone.

Trees, benches, small ponds.

I nap there sometimes.

So many souls, wiz, super real.

My massage room? Quaint hidey-hole.

Inside, soft music soothes.

Aroma oils and warm smiles.
Some nights, I sit by Têt.

Deep thoughts flood my head.

I think, "Whoa, this is life."

Folk whispers gossip in alleys.

Holla from the old Café Esprit.

Their coffee = life, tbh.
I seen weird art on Rue du Général de Gaulle.

Graffiti tales of love and hope.

Crazy truth, hard to miss.

I get overrated vibes there, know what I mean?

Nothin's perfect here, but it's dope.
Every corner beats with heart.

Every alley has its secret.

I laugh, cry, and feel raw.

"Everything is a place, real and true!"

Man, that's illy surreal.

This city, it makes me, ooops, glad.
Sorry for all typos, bud.

But hey, it's all spontaenous.

Stay chill, my friend.

Ille-sur-Têt rocks hard.

Whoa.