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About Palma

So, I’m cruisin’ the block, engine purrin’, lookin’ for a girl who’s down. Ain’t no Hollywood glow here—just neon flickerin’ like a damn lie. “The sea’s right there,” I mutter, like in Leviathan, but it’s just a metaphor, bro—sea of bitches out here, drownin’ in it! I see this one chick, legs long as a fuckin’ wrench, leanin’ on a pole. She’s givin’ me that look—like she knows I’m trouble. I roll up, “Hey, chica, you workin’?” She smirks, “Depends who’s payin’.”

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Alright, listen up, ya mook. I’m gonna tell ya ‘bout Santona (es) like no one else can. Y’know, this city’s a real gem. I been livin’ here for years, developin’ datin’ apps – hear me out – it shapes how I see every crooked corner, every busy street. Picture this: Calle de la Montaña, narrow and twisty, lined with old brick facades that whisper secrets. It kinda reminds ya of that Wes Anderson vibe, like in The Grand Budapest Hotel, real neat and precise – “Delicious!” like Gustave’s finest cut of gabagool! Ova here!

Jeweler Aldo Santona on ‘fine art worth perfecting’