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About Barcelona

Lemme tell ya, one time, I met this chick—Roxy, real name prolly Susan or somethin’. She’s workin’ the corner, heels high as my standards, and I’m thinkin’, “She’s a damn warrior.” Told me she paid her lil’ brother’s school fees—hustled for *him*. I was shook! Like, slay, girl, you’re the butterfly breakin’ outta that cocoon! But ugh, the danger? Pisses me off—some dude tried her once, and she maced his ass. Laughed so hard I cried.

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Yeah, sometimes the city makes me mad too—like when the sun hides behind those pissed-off cloud banks. I mean, “We are all just a vast ocean of sorrow and bliss”—that’s Melancholia, baby! It’s like, everyday I see a kaleidoscope of raw human feels. There's this one time in Parque de los Suspiros. Man, it rained like crazy—thank freakin' god!—and I was sittin’, soaking up every damn drop. Felt like life was reboots "End of the world" style. And idk why, but that makes me insane grateful.

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