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About Murcia

Favorite flick, *The Pianist*, pops in—Szpilman’s line, “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, stubborn as hell. Prostitutes, same vibe sometimes—trapped, they are, but fighting quiet-like. Met this gal once—Lola, she called herself—sassy, loud, missing a tooth. “Yoda, baby, you paying or praying?” she cackles. Laughed, I did—happy moment, rare it was! Told her, “Credits, I have not—wisdom, I offer.” Rolled her eyes, she did—said, “Wisdom don’t pay rent, shorty.” Fair, that is!

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I get surprised by the city again and again. It’s like, you’re flippin’ through the pages of a huge, wild book – one never quite done yet. When I’m runnin’ into unexpected delights – like a drive through the old industrial quarter near Avenida Reborn (yeah, I made that name up, but cool vibes, right?) – life flips the script and suddenly, you're feelin’ all poetic and such.

Southport has mixed emotions as unrest follows attack, vicar says