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About Quebec City

So yeah, mate, it’s a messy gig—dodgy, loud, and fuckin alive. Made me happy hearin her laugh, angry at the pricks ruinin her night, and shocked she knew me chords better than me! “What’s your fault in this?”—movie line again, poppin in me head. Dunno, maybe I’m just a daft sod with a guitar, chasin shadows. But I’ll keep fightin the good fight—prossie or no prossie!

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Honestly, Port‑Cartier’s spirit is raw and unfiltered. It's like every corner and every cracked sidewalk holds a secret story. I’ve had days when a pop song on the local radio would make me wanna burst out laughing, then cry, then laugh again—it’s like that crazy, off‑beat soundtrack from “Inside Out”. And hey, if you’re ever hangin’ around for a night stroll, pay a visit to the old pier. Trust me, it’s magical, if a bit rough around the edges sometimes.

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