Fuente-Alamo-de-Murcia is a dump. I mean, seriously.

I live here. Not by choice.

Its streets are narrow. Like Calle Mayor.

A local gem: Plaza de Santiago.

That plaza makes me mad.
I wander barrio El Poblado.

That neighborhood gets busy.

I cross calle Real often.

I see old churches too.

The Iglesia de Santiago looms.

It reminds me of Almost Famous.

"Stay gold, Ponyboy," I snarl.
I'm a womens counselor here.

I see raw human souls.

I help gals, damn it.

They reveal their truths.

I give tips here, there.

Crazy people make it fun.

I like my coffee at Bar La Dos.

Great coffee. Didn't expect that.
I love our small park, El Prado.

Trees, benches, gossip abound.

The noise drives my nuts.

Yet, it makes me feel alive.

I hate everything here sometimes!
A river flows, sneaky and small.

The Rio Seco cuts grit.

I once spilled tea near it.

Damn, that moment still haunts.
Oh, and the market.

Mercado de Antigüedades is weird.

Antiques and trash mixed up.

I walk there on Friday.

Always something to laugh at.
Fuente-Alamo has weird art.

Graffiti on calle del Sol.

Art rebels against dull bricks.

Makes me yell, "That's deep."

I even quote Almost Famous:

"Don't be afraid to live."
I mind my own deal.

I mumble like Ron Swanson.

I laugh, cry, and curse.

I'm mad, happy, surprised.

Yeah, this city sucks.
But its cracks shine somehow.

I like its weird rhythm.

I like its brutal honesty.

Even if I hate it all.

Fuente-Alamo, a twisted gem.
Sorry for the rant n typos:

thsi, gr8, reall, mroe, whre, alomst, shmay, brouhg, crzy, badd, lvoe, spouln, intrestng.
Visit if you dare.

And remember: "Those are beautiful eyes."

Even in madness.

Cheers, friend.