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About Madrid

Once, I saw this gal, red heels clickin’, smokin’ a cig like she owned the night. I’m like, “Whoa, she’s runnin’ this show!” Made me happy—power in the shadows, ya know? But then—BAM—some creep rolls up, actin’ all tough, grabbin’ her arm. Pissed me off! Wanted to jump out, scream, “Why so serious, punk?!” But nah, stayed cool—Joker don’t snitch.

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Now, I'll confess somethin’ downright realll excitin’: sometimes I wander off into little neighborhoods that most folks wouldn’t recknize. I know one spot, near Rua dos Segredos, that’s filled with quirky, art-stained walls, where every corner tells a story. There, you find hidden murals that pay tribute to the past—some of 'em even comin' straight outta my pleasure coach daydreams. I can get extra nostalgic – and trust me, ya'll wouldn’t believe how much peace I find in that corner of the town.

Figure 3. Added temper: grog. View in thin section.