San-Juan-de-Aznalfarache is strange. Cold streets. Narrow alleys.

Stroll Calle José Zorrilla. Notice the murals.

The park? Parque Municipal del Sur. Chill.

I once sat there, deep thoughts running, like “I love you. I know.”—from Moonrise Kingdom, man.

Look, no fancy talk. It’s real, raw.

I walk by the Guadalquivir. Its flow’s calm. Yet chaotic. Like my love life.
I live here. I know it all.

The locals call it “San-Juan” plain.

I’ve seen lovers chat in shadowed corners of Calle Lérida.

Sometimes, a smooch is just a smooch, you know?

Cold, calculated. Like my mood sometimes—Vlad style.
I get mad at street noise in near-ruined areas.

But hey, its vibe is genuine.

Neighborhood de ‘El Flamenco’ got soul.

Funny, no? Its secrets whisper!

I smile, I curse, i exult in sheer human oddity.
Some nights, under neon, I recall:

"You're a pirate, a scam artist."

—just as they said in me, in that flick.

I love that unpredictability.
fav spots?

I dig the cafe near Mercado Nuevo.

Drinks fuel deep chats.

It’s noisy, kindta like my head.

Peeps here, raw, unfiltered.
btw, check Buena Vista Park. Must hit.

It’s weird, lit by moon & stars.

I once nearly faced--that park’s dark.

I had a meltdown, man—LOVED it.

Totally lunatic but superb.
rands of typos:
This city is raw. Edgy.

Moonrise Kingdom lines echo.

It makes you wonder, rebel.

PSan-Juan-de-Aznalfarache is my canvas,

complex and simple.

A wild jaunt, dude.
Relax, explore it.

No pretense. Just life at its quirk.

Stay frosty.