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About Bilbao

So, I’m stalkin these grimy alleys, heels clickin, lookin for a tart. Not some high-class escort, nah—too posh, too fake. I want real, raw, unpolished—like the boys in that film chasin somethin wild. Found this one bird, right, all lipstick smears and tired eyes. “How much, love?” I sneer, cos I ain’t here for chit-chat. She mumbles a price, I scoff—bloody cheek! Made me angry, that did—tryin to fleece me like I’m some soft twit. “I choose violence,” I think, but nah, I just haggle her down.

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Man, cruising on Calle Real feels like a movie scene. I’m like, “I got a dream” as I roll past those faded murals. And check this: that park, Parque Del Sol, is a haven. Its paths wind by a lil’ stream, a hidden oasis like “A Prophet” vibes, man. I remember one wild night, coding my dating app under the stars there. "It's our time" – like in that movie, you know?

National Court summons Obiang’s son for kidnapping and torture of Spanish citizens