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About Madrid

I’d be hoppin along, right? Dark alley, see some gal whisperin, “You must let me in.” Straight outta the movie! Chills, man. Surprised me how quiet it all is—like, no big “Hey, I’m a prostitute!” sign. Subtle vibes. Once knew a guy—swore he saw a cop hagglin a price. True? Who knows! Made me laugh tho—pigs in blue, ha!

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Lo, thou must start at Calle del Sol—a narrow winding street bursting with quirky little taverns and rubescent murals. I often muse there, swiping right under the silver moon, creating connections that bounce like errant echoes. And oh! The miraculous Plaza de La Amistad, where cobblestones bear whispered secrets of ancient lore and the gentle murmur of fountains doth lull the restless soul.

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