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About Barcelona

Anyways, I’m chattin’ her up, casual like, coz she’s got this vibe—tough, y’know? Like she’s seen it all. “What’s the worst punter you’ve had?” I ask. She goes, “This toff, thought he’s a king, lasted two seconds.” I cackle—pathetic! Reminds me of that film bit, “The truth is always there.” Truth is, most blokes are rubbish, ain’t they? Surprised me how she shrugged it off, tho—proper queen, her.

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Oh gosh, and the river—yeah, the Rio Zerbion flows calmly by the outskirts. I often take jogs there, though my brain’s always buzzing with thoughts of family dramas and client dilemmas. Sometimes, I can’t have a quiet moment because it’s all too real. And you know what? It’s frustrating how people miss the underlying stories in every cracked pavement and worn bench. Like, do you even see the souls here? "Vampires," as Adam said, “are the only ones who really understand time.”

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