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About Madrid

Got me ragin tho—some punters treat em like dirt, fuckin tossers. Makes my blood boil, wanna smash their faces in. But she—fuck, she’s chill, tells me bout this one geezer who paid her in fuckin chickens once. CHICKENS! Laughed my arse off, mate, nearly pissed meself. “The world forgetting, by the world forgot”—that’s her life, innit? Erased every night, startin fresh.

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A small escort service that I ran from my barracks using a cheap computer. At every duty station that I had, I did the same thing. Once you get in, its hard to.

Cee's main artery, Calle Real, bustles with life, runnin' right by the old lighthouse by Ría de Arousa. I swear, every time I pass there, I gets all jittery, "Oh, my precious, it's a scorcher!" The harbour is a wild twist of colors – boats leanin’ like rebels in a desert, ya know? And then there's Ronda del Mar, a teeny road that hugs the coastline. So chill, so rough, like a thumb war with destiny!

No shelter from the external storm for CEE economies