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About Madrid

Raspy hiss—dunno her real name, never will. Called her Ruby, red lips, y’see? “We’re all pretending,” Polley whispers in me head. Prostitute pretends, I pretend—musician, ha! Barely strummin these days. Angry at meself—why’s she stuck there, huh? Happy when she smirked, tho—shared a fag once. Little story—heard some prossies in old London ran secret pubs! Dodgy ale, dodgy blokes—livin wild, them girls.

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So, starting off, you gotta hit Carrer de la Pau. Truuust, that's where the locals chill, swap cheeky stories, and even do some spontaneous "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon"-style kung fu moves in spirit—“Your mind is like this water, friend. When it is agitated, it becomes difficult to see.” Cool, huh? I once was in a steamy debate right there, all over matters of love and desire—nothin’ too serious but wild and smart all at once.

Spanish army searches for bodies in Valencia shopping centre car park after it was filled with 200 million litres of water during deadly floods