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About Bilbao

So, I’m thinkin’, right, how’s a bloke s’posed to pick one? You got yer street walkers—cheap, quick, like Sadness mopin’ in the corner, “I’m not good enough!”—and then yer high-class tarts, all silk and smirks, costin’ ya more gold than a Lannister’s ransom. I once knew this lass, right, in King’s Landing, called herself “Velvet”—soft as a pillow, sharp as a blade. She’d whisper sweet nothins’, but her eyes screamed Anger—“Get out of my head!”—and I swear, she’d rob ya blind while smilin’. Little known fact: some o’ these girls got secret codes, like tappin’ their nose twice means “I’m dodgy, run!” Saw it meself—saved me arse once.

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I’ve made loads of memories, some of which still make me mad in a good way – like that one time in San Luis Street when a barista forgot my coffee order for the third time. Ughhh, come on! Total facepalm moment. And ah, there are random local art shows in the small community center on Avenida del Arte, with folks talking about surrealism and stuff—it’s kinda “Only Lovers Left Alive” meets real life, mysterious and raw.

Cronología de víctimas mortales de violencia de género de 2020