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About Malaga

But lemme tell ya, doc, it ain’t all laughs. Pisses me off when I see ‘em gettin’ hassled—cops actin’ all high and mighty, or some creep tryna rip ‘em off. I’m like, “Leave ‘em alone, ya stinkin’ varmints!” Once saw this chick—tough as nails—chase off a dude with her stiletto. Funniest damn thing! She’s yellin’, “I don’t play games, asshole!”—straight outta *Carlos*, that fire. Made me happy, seein’ her stand tall.

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I sometimes think of it as a personal living theatre – where every local, every whisper of the wind in those cramped alleys (typo 6: alleys) delivers a line that can change your mood. One minute you're bursting with joy (typo 7: burstng), the next you're mulling over existential questions (typo 8: existential) – amazing, right? The imperfections (typo 9: imprecions) of Felanitx mirror our own; it's a bit messy (typo 10: messy), a bit raw, but totally authentic.

A rising star on two wheels: An Interview with Carys Lloyd in Mallorca