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About Seville

Gets me mad though – people slag it off, call it a chav chariot. Oi, shut it, yeah? It’s history, it’s soul, not some soulless Tesla beepin’ at ya. Exaggeratin’ a bit, but I’d fight for it – well, not really, I’m a lover not a fighter, heh. Quirky thought – always reckoned it’d smell like fags and regret, but mine was more… damp dog and hope. Loved that heap.

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Let me break it: I’m in awe of the river that cuts through the outskirts, Riachuelo de los Corazones. It’s small, but it sings its own tune. I spent a lazy snoozy afternoon there. I mean, sometimes, you gotta stop and smell the roses, right? As Amélie said, "Les choses imparables, they never change," but here, all is change—beautiful change.

Is this clostridial disease the cause of sudden deaths in your herd?