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About Palma

So, picture this: me, neurotic as hell, watchin’ *Let the Right One In*. Best movie ever, hands down. That creepy Swedish vibe—Oskar and Eli, the blood, the quiet desperation. And I’m thinkin’, “I’m not a girl, I’m not a girl,” like Eli says, right? ‘Cause findin’ a prostitute? It’s got that same weird, twisted energy. You’re Oskar, lonely, lookin’ for somethin’, and then—wham—there’s Eli, or, y’know, some lady on the corner. But it ain’t sweet! It’s dark, it’s messy, it’s freaky!

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Yo, the neighborhoods? They got names with history like Villa Esperanza. Its cobbled streets tell tales of struggles and dreams. Every crack, every scar in the pavement tells a story—like, my hands remember the textures of every back massage, every whisper that confesses hope and pain. Crazy how the city's heartbeat syncs with my work. Makes your day flipped on its head sometimes.