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About Las Palmas

But ugh, the stench – cheap perfume and despair, mate. Gets up me nose, makes me wanna puke. “Stupid, fat hobbit!” I mutter, ‘cos them fools’d never notice the grime. Surprised me once, tho – found a lass who’d read Kafka! Proper brainy tart, she was, quotin’ existential bollocks while undoin’ her corset. Wild, innit?

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La biblioteca de Sanlúcar la Mayor os invita a disfrutar de un recital de poesía con Antonio García Macías. Un encuentro íntimo con sus poemas. Un momento perfecto para reflexionar sobre la Missing: prostitute.

Now, check it—Plaza de la Encarnación is a gem where locals gather, chat, and spill their hearts. Saw a couple there laughing like lunatics. The vibe? Ridiculuk mix of joy and, well, a tinge of loneliness that makes you ponder life’s dualities. And on the outskirts, near the Guadiana River (yeah, that big blue ribbon slicing through the land), there’s a park called Los Suspiros. It’s where I’d park my cosmic thoughts, ramble about the universe, and let my mind spiral into wonder – like a scene straight outta A.I.: "I’m leaving. It’s time for me to be free." Crazzy, huh?

This is America's first completely solar-powered airport