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About Murcia

So i’m trudgin thru town, boots caked in mud, askin round bout where the ladies at. Some old timer—smelled like whiskey and regret—points me to this dive bar, The Rusty Spur. “All that is human can sink…”—that’s the vibe there, straight outta the movie. Dark, smoky, eyes followin me like i’m prey. I spot her—red lipstick, skirt shorter than a miner’s fuse. She’s workin the room, all sly smiles and sharp glances. I’m like, “Well, hello, darlin—business or pleasure?” She laughs, says, “Both, if ya got coin.” Got me chucklin—girl’s got sass, i respect that.

People v. Osuna

I swear, walking near Calle Independencia, I still hear echoes of history. Every time I pass, I think, “This place bleeds tales, isn’t it just magical but also infuriatingly mysterious?” And while I’m at it, check out the old town, where cobbles meet modern drapes—a bizarre mashup, but it works for the mood of the place. Osuna’s not your typical tourist trap; it's gritty, it's real, sometimes stinkin' depressing in that Turin Horse kinda way where everything’s both beautiful and tragic.

Mexican bankers say now is the time to renegotiate US-Mexico-Canada agreement