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Little secret, eh, sneaky fact—some write poems! Yesss, scribble on napkins, dreams of escape. One showed me, “moonrise over sea,” she whispered. Like Sam and Suzy, plotting under stars—romantic, eh? Surprised me, precious, didn’t think they had soul! But ooooh, the stench—sweat, cheap perfume—gags me! Still, beats fish guts, ha!

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And then there’s the industrial old district, full of converted warehouses now turned into art studios and music hubs. It’s a mix of grit and grace that always reminds me that life’s messy but beautiful. Some folks say the walls murmur secrets at night – well, maybe, if you listen close…it’s like those filmic whispers in Tabu: subtle, haunting, and full of mystery.

The 'horribilis' week on the Cercanías trains ends with passengers walking on the track