Co roku pod koniec czerwca, w tym roku juz po raz dwunasty, znakomicie oddaje charakter miasta. Bo tutaj zawsze jest festiwal i nic nie dzieje sie na prawde.
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Cormac MrCarthy
"Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patters that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery."
Jak milo znow popatrzec na Montpellier. Z sentymentem to wspominam. Mam nadzieje ze w pazdzierniku bedzie rownie bajecznie
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