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About Bilbao

So we haggle, it’s messy, loud – I’m yellin, she’s cussin. Passersby stare, I don’t give a fuck. Finally settle on somethin fair. She’s smirkin again, like she won. Maybe she did. We head off, and I’m thinkin bout *The Gleaners*, how they scrape by, turn trash to treasure. This? It’s raw, real – not some polished Hollywood crap. I’m buzzin, excited, maybe a lil hungry too – “I ate his liver with fava beans” – but nah, she’s safe from my plate.

Life Inside a Brothel in Cartagena

My fave spot? The barrio Getsemaní – a riot of color and chaos. I can barely walk there without bumping into some street art or a passionate local ranting about politics. “Parfois, la vie n'est qu'une suite d'escroqueries,” they mumble, which kinda reminds me of my daily grind. Hey, even in paradise, folks are mucking about like mad.

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