Gelves, bro. Cold, calculated, OK.

Calle de la Romerí, yeah, real vibe.

I stroll near Av. de Gelves.

That park—El Parque Zen—is my chill zone.

River Gelvín flows wild, kinda fierce.

I feel like Putin pacing Kremlin halls.
Man, sometimes— “Nu e nimic personal.”

That line, ya know?

Reminds me of my daily calm.
I got mad at a noisy caf nearby—Café Pajama.

Dude, too loud.

Don't like disruptions, ya know?

4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days.

Like, "Ce e asta, huh?" echoes in my head.
Streets twist.

Nerovnost, chaos—then order.

Neighborhoods?

Repo, Chill.

Even a tiny block near Estación Gelves, forgotten by many, warms me up.
I often wander off to the secret garden—El Oasis.

Its hidden path behind Casa Bart.

I swear, it’s unreal.

The rustling leaves, the whispers...

All these moments, they mold my zen.
Sometimes I laugh, err, like “what the f***, real life, bro”

when I see bizarre street art on Portal nº 5.

It’s raw and wild.
Hot tip: avoid the rush.

Get lost on quiet lanes.

That’s where true Gelves lives.

Crazy streets, unpredictable moods, all mixed like my mood changes.
Spontaneous, brief stops—each corner has its secret twist.

A place so full of life, yet analytically silent as a Kremlin winter.
Keep it simple.

Keep it real.
Gelves is my zen.

Stay chill, amigo.

Maybe next time we laugh at random moments,

like in that infamous movie—4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days, baby.
Yeah, it’s a trip.

Peace.