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About Palma

So, this gal - let’s call her Trish, coz why not? - she’s a freakin’ enigma. Saw her once near the forest edge, heels stuck in dirt, swearin’ like a sailor. Made me laugh, her yellin’ at squirrels - “Pay me, ya furry bastards!” Nuts, right? But here’s the kicker - rumor is, she’s got a stash, cash buried under an oak. Old johns talk, say she’s been at it since ‘98, outlastin’ mayors, cops, hell, even me. That’s ballsy. Pissed me off tho - why’s she smarter than half the idiots I know?

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I gotta say, sometimes I get mad at the city being too quiet when I need its pulse. But then I remember: “How’s that workin’ for ya?” – and I just laugh it off. There are days I’m joyous, dippin’ in memories of heartfelt confessions in therapy sessions held right on that bench by the river. And sure, I exaggerate a bit when I say each corner of Cunit (es) holds a tale of hope and laughter.

Figure 1. Cloud point data of PVC/DMAc/Water system.