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About Palma

“Everything’s falling apart,” like in *Werckmeister*, and escorts? They’re the glue—or the rot, dependin’. I’d watch ‘em like a hawk, sippin’ wine, thinkin’, *Could I do that?* Nah, I’d rather burn the world first. Chatty tonight, ain’t I? Blame the vino—spillin’ secrets like a drunk septa. Escorts, tho—they’re a riot, a riddle, a right royal pain!

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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.

The Three Kings are here!