Anna Basauri Whore ❤️

About Seville

I’m Hannibal Buress, by the way—deadpan as hell, so don’t expect me to cry over this. Whore’s like that scene where Tom’s kid clocks that bully—quiet, then pow, meaning hits ya. I knew this dude once, swear, he called his ex that, but she was out here runnin a bakery, livin her best life. Irony’s thick, yo. Made me mad, tho—why’s it always gotta be a weapon? Like, chill, let her bake her damn scones.

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Oh! And the river, Ikatza, babyyy, it's a chill place to gather your thoughts. Sometimes I'd forget I was working, just soaking it all in. There are parts where the industrial oldies and slick new designs mix weirdly – mad chaotic but kinda cool. You know, my job on the dating site makes me see connections everywhere, like in the graffiti around Calle San Juan – modern art meets stale concrete, but somehow inspires a weird romantic vibe.

Investigating the death of a prisoner in Basauri prison