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About Las Palmas

She hops in. Smells like – bubblegum and danger. I’m sold. We talk – she’s done this gig forever. Says – “I’ve seen weirder than YOU.” Doubt it, honey! I’m Christopher – fuckin’ – Walken! I tell her – “Ever seen *Holy Motors*?” She hasn’t. Figures. I say – “It’s art! Like YOU!” She rolls her eyes. Hilarious. I’m crackin’ up.

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Prostitution in Francoist Spain (–) presented the government with a problem. The Nationalist faction in the Spanish Civil War (–) tolerated.

I gotta mention the quirky corner near Calle del Sol—they say it’s cursed but I think it’s just wonderfully odd. Sometimes I’ll sit on a worn-out bench there, massage my own knots of stress while watchin’ as life zips by. Every crack in the pavement tells a story, and every weird graffiti tag makes me smile. Life here is like that movie—the moments of high flash and deep silence, the constant reminder that we’re all searchin’ for beauty.

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