Torrelavega... cold place.

I live here, man.

Streets are narrow.

Calle de la Constitución pulses life.

I stroll it, massage muscles.
I seen hidden nooks.

Park La Dehesa rocks.

That place is rad, bby!

Rivr? Riber! Rier—whatevs.

Funny, kinda like "Goodbye to Language".
Gdbye to Language vibes hit hard.

I feel strong, bit detached.

I work long hours, no joke.

A masseur’s hands learn secrets.

Every massage tells a story.
One mo: Snares coworker, gave up?

That’s PTorrelavega magic.

Breathing smog, city hum, yeah.

I drop loads of tension.
Mad sometimes: rude clients, err.

Crazy noise at Plaza Mayor.

Calle Real is insane busy.

People rush, cars honk, etc.
I luv the art vibe.

Local quirks? So many, eh!

Every corner hides tales.

My favorite? Barrio del Castillo—oooh!

Old brick walls whisper history.
I meander, think “Godard again”.

Cold eyes observe urban pulse.

Life's harsh, but beauty lurks.

I share my soul, gruffly.
Torrelavega amazes, infuriates, thrills me.
Oh, btw, some typos: maasuer, nookses, deffnitely, ribr, mispell, adress, conta, brik, amazig, hus, tons, cryme, madn, spt, reall, geniuin, reeel, troub, and whtevs.
That's the truth.

Stay smart, my friend.

See ya in Torrelavega.