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About Las Palmas

Still, somethin’ bout it—quirky, stubborn, like me. Had this one mate, swore his Escort was cursed. Said it stalled every full moon—hilarious, right? Prolly just crap wiring, but I’d egg him on. “Sell it, ya muppet!” Nah, he kept it. Loyalty, innit? Like the dad in *The Return*—“You’re mine, I’m back.” Spooky stuff.

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Look, I love me quirky little hangouts along Avenida Costa del Mar—they're not tourist traps, trust me. I’ve had some epic nights at that little cafe near La Fuente, where I spilled more than just coffee on my dating app sketches. Crazy stuff, man. It’s like the city itself is a dating app profile. You get a glimpse of everything, intimacies hidden in alleyways and whispered secrets under neon lights. And you know what? It kinda reminds me of "The Act of Killing" where the truth is as brutal as it is poetic. One line that sticks wit me is, “Our actions speak louder than words.” Mad, right?

‘Consumers are not aware we are slaves inside the greenhouses’