I am your father... Begues, es, is wicked cool.

It’s a small town with big soul.

I live near Carrer del Banys.

The streets twist and turn, ya know?

There's a church, Sant Pere, that watches over all.

I stroll by La Masia at dusk.

Oh, the park near the river? Pure magic.

I mean, sometimes I just wanna scream "Spring Breakers style, baby!" and run, run, run.
My work as a counselor opened my eyes.

I see hidden wounds in crumby corners.

I see tender hearts around plazas.

Some streets seem to whisper old secrets.

I get hits of hope and anger in equal parts — raw, yeah.
Man, I never expected Begues to be so damn alive!

I wander near Plaça del Mercat, where vendors shout my name.

I walk by the old mills on the Rebombés.

The river hums soft lullabies.

I sometimes catch a glimpse, a memory, I can’t put it out.
Nights here are moody.

Dusk falls heavy like in Spring Breakers.

The vibe? Dark.

Yet so nurturing.

I see women venting their hurts in little cafes on Carrer de la Pau.

I get all emotional—I even lost it once.

I laughed so hard as I blurted out "I am your father" to a lost tourist.
Oh shit, my heart nearly exploded.

I got mad at injustice,
happy when I saw love blossom in cracked corners.

I love these small urban secrets.

They keep me coming back.
Yo, if you hit up the Santa Creu neighborhood,

you’ll see frescoes on buildings.

They’re like eyes in the dark.

Feel the city breathing, man.

It’s all a mix of scars and beauty.
I gotta tell ya—Begues is real, raw, and a bit unruly.

I swear, it runs deep with the pulse of old stories.

Each alley, each park bench, they tell me, "Join us, embrace."

It's a wild blend... unfiltered, gritty, and breathtaking.

So come, stay a while.

Let Begues show you its crazy heart.
I am your father... and this is Begues, es.