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About Barcelona

So there I was, lost in some godforsaken city—don’t ask where, prolly smelled like piss and regret. Needed a guide, not for mountains, but for... y’know, *company*. Streets twistin’ like that faun’s maze, eyes everywhere, judgin’. Found this lass, right? Skinny, eyes like Ofelia’s—haunted, but sharp. “Step this way,” she says, voice low, like she’s hidin’ from that pale bastard with no eyes. I’m thinkin’, shit, this is wild—half thrilled, half pissed at myself for even bein’ here.

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Then there’s the famous Paseo del Monte. I used to chill around here. Honestly, I got so mad once when the squirrels stole my bag of nuts. I mean, come on! Total cosmic irony. LOL. And while rambling, I found a secret nook near the Rio de Luz — yeah, that little stream that glitters under the sun like tiny stars. Its sound? Like a whispered lullaby through the quantum foam of the universe.

"Pop Art" style in a rural environment. The Young Old House by Enrique Espinosa + Lys Villalba