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About Las Palmas

But ugh, the pimps—greasy pricks, all “Gimme fuel, gimme fire!” energy. Hate em, slimy as eels, always hoverin. One tried shakin me down, I bolted—ran like Max haulin ass from War Boys. Heart poundin, thinkin, “Ain’t dyin tonight!” Surprised I didn’t trip, clumsy as I am. We swears! You gotta watch yer back, or it’s game over, kaput.

Is it worth visiting Cudillero, Spain?

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I swear, every corner of Cudillero has a story. Stumbling upon Casa del Mar, a rustic little landmark near the port, fills you with whispers of bygone days, the echoes of fishermen laughing as they cast their nets and sharing cheeky secrets like, "Tabu, but not taboo!" Goodness, I swear sometimes it sounds like a scene from my fav movie, "Tabu"—a bit eerie and mystical like life itself, ya know? And oh, the playful stray cat on Miramar Street, always prowling around like it owns the place, makes me crack up and think, "Ahh, what a beautiful discord!"

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