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About Barcelona

Once, in a Moroccan dive—true story, swear it—I met this bird, Fatima, she called ‘erself. Eyes like coal, voice like honey. She’d “find a prostitute” fer *you*, mate—ran a whole crew! Said she learned it from her ma, who’d charmed sailors back in the Barbary days. Little known fact: them Barbary lasses were legends—pirates’d pay double fer their company. Fatima laughed, sayin’ she’d rather rob me blind than bed me—cheeky minx! Had me grinnin’ ear to ear, tho. Surprised me, she did—thought I’d seen it all.

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Nothin’ beats chillin’ on Calle de la Libertad. Ya got me passin’ by that at 7 in the mornin’. Y’know I sometimes take a stroll there after a long day. It’s like a scene from The Pianist, "Music must be heard," but with that Spanish heat. The locals, they got style, a real gabagool, ova here!

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