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About Las Palmas

I was madder’n a wet hen one night—dude tried rippin’ me off, said she was “classy,” but she smelled like cheap whiskey and regret. Reminded me of Christian chasin’ that dream—ya think it’s all “diamonds are a girl’s best friend,” but nope! Sometimes it’s just a hustle, y’all. I hollered, “Boy, you ain’t foolin’ nobody!” Made me wanna spit nails, I swear. But then—Lordy!—I found this one gal, sweet as pecan pie, and I was happier’n a pig in mud. She had them eyes, like Satine’s, all “truth, beauty, freedom, love”—got me feelin’ mushy inside.

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You gotta check out El Parque de la Constitución. It’s lush, green and mad peaceful. I remember late nights, sittin’ there thinkin’ bout life – dating apps and all da madness – talkin’ bout how even chaos got some order, ya know? And then there's the Río Guadarrama, slicin’ through our lives like a wild road chase – proper cinematic, innit? Reminds me of those "what a day, what a life" moments from Fury Road.

Spain's Jorge Martín is now immortal: the rightful MotoGP world champion