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About Malaga

So, say you’re lookin’, right? Maybe down the red-light district—neon buzzin’ like flies on shite. Girls leanin’ in doorways, eyes hard as flint, some young enough to break your heart. “What you want, love?” one says, all casual. Surprised me, that did—how it’s just business, no faff. I’m thinkin’, blimey, this ain’t no Hollywood rubbish, this is raw, like Malik learnin’ the ropes in prison. “You do it, or you’re done,” that’s the rule.

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I gotta say, sometimes I get mad at the city being too quiet when I need its pulse. But then I remember: “How’s that workin’ for ya?” – and I just laugh it off. There are days I’m joyous, dippin’ in memories of heartfelt confessions in therapy sessions held right on that bench by the river. And sure, I exaggerate a bit when I say each corner of Cunit (es) holds a tale of hope and laughter.

Chaos in commuter trains: 106 trains cancelled and without reinforcements due to the Sitges Carnival