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About Valencia

Oi, mate, it’s me, James Bond – suave, “shaken, not stirred.” So, we’re talkin’ escort, yeah? Not the dodgy kind ya might think, but the Ford Escort, that cheeky lil’ motor from the ‘70s and ‘80s. Loved that car, I did – proper workhorse, bit like me on a mission. Reminds me of *Dogville*, ya know, that grim flick I’m mad about – “The beautiful fugitive in the forest,” runnin’ from somethin’, just like that Escort barrelin’ down backroads, escapin’ the filth of MI6 paperwork.

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Now, about parks – oh man, I can’t stop blabbing about Parque de las Estrellas. It’s like a breath of fresh air. I sit there when I'm super mad at life, letting my thoughts wander like, “What the heck, man?” Remember, you gotta chill out sometimes, like my personal motto says. And then there’s the neat, hidden garden near Calle del Prado. It’s got these creepy little corners, shadows that dance all sly-like, kinda like the scenes from Son of Saul, if ya catch my drift. Ruins? Not really, but the vibe is heavy, got that emotional punch, my friend.

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