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About Palma

Surprised, I was, reading that. Happy? Nah, not really—sad vibes hit hard. *Yi Yi* lingers in my head—“Life is a mixture of sad and happy,” it says. Her life, mostly sad, I bet. Imagine her, dolled up, fake smile—oof, gut punch. Exaggerate, I could—say she’s a queen of the night! Ha, sarcasm drips—queen of shitty motels, more like. Met one once, I did—chatty gal, smoked like a chimney. “Gotta eat somehow,” she shrugged. Fair, I thought, but damn, soul-crushing.

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There’s also a hidden gem—Parque de la Paz, tucked behind an old stone wall near a shady corner. A perfect spot to breathe out, reflect, and get lost in your thoughts. Sometimes I'll walk there, thinkin’ “this is my hour,” reminiscent of that gritty sense of fleeting time in "25th Hour." Time’s fluid, unpredictable—just like my shift here.

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