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About Barcelona

So, escorts—high-class ones, not the dodgy street sort. They’re like shadows, slippin’ through courts and castles, all smiles and secrets. Makes me mad, tho—half these lords pay more for a night than I’d spend on a whole damn army. Little fact for ya: back in old Rome, they called ‘em *hetaerae*, posh tarts who’d recite poetry before, y’know, gettin’ busy. Surprised me, that—thought it was all wham-bam, but nah, they had *skills*. Bet they’d smirk at my throne and say, “This too shall pass,” like in the film.

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La-Oliva’s not just streets and buildings. There’s the river, El Cauce, cutting through the city. It flows by way of magic, splashin' secrets at any given corner. At times, I sit by its edges and think “I really feel like a prophet in this crazy world”, just like in that movie – words float in the air, like “He’s a man who can see his own death coming”.

The Spaniards who helped with the Moon landing