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About Valencia

Speakin’ o’ *Far From Heaven*, there’s that line—“I’m going to be just fine”—Cathy says it, all brave-like, but you know she’s dyin’ inside. That’s what “whore” feels like to me—somebody’s fightin’ to keep their chin up while the world’s pitchin’ stones. Makes me wanna hug ‘em tight and say, “Honey, you’re prettier’n a peach pie, don’t you fret!” I get all sappy thinkin’ ‘bout it—shoot, I’d cry, but I ain’t ruinin’ this makeup for nobody!

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Personally, I wouldn't say Raval is any more dangerous than anywhere else in the city. The worst thing I've encountered is some mild harassment.

The alleys? OMG! They twist and turn with magic. I love wanderin’ in quiet corners off the beaten path—so chill and raw. Like the tiny garden near Plaça Sant Felip Neri. It’s mad serene, though eerie enough sometimes to get you thinkin’ real deep 'bout life stuff. I recall once my anxious client just stared out, thinkin’ “I have to let it go!” And it hit me—this city heals d open hearts.

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