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About Las Palmas

I’d stroll up, all wizard-like, “You shall not pass!”—blockin’ creeps from ruinin’ someone’s day. Imagine it: me, gray robes flappin’, starin’ down some sleazy git. “This ain’t no game, lad!” Reminds me of Mia’s mum in *Fish Tank*—rough as hell, screamin’, “You’re nothing!” Kinda what I’d yell at pimps. They’d scatter, trust me.

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I mean, visiting Albolote flips your mood, like, literally every day. I get mad sometimes ‘cause the streets are so quiet after sunset, like, “where did all the people go?” But then the stars come out, and I’m like, “oh my gosh, this is life!” I even had a date in front of the old church in Barrio Los Pinos. Like, talk about a vibe! And you know, as a sexologist, I totally dig how the town’s energy is, like, all about subtle intimacy—you feel the passion almost in the bricks. Ugh, it's amazeballs.

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