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About Palma

I reckon my favorite thing’s the stories. Heard tell of an escort who sang opera—mid-date! Client’s jaw dropped, and I’m over here hollerin’, “Honey, I’d hire ya just for that!” Reminds me of *Timbuktu*’s quiet rebels—doin’ their thing, no fuss. Another gal I read ‘bout, she’d knit durin’ downtime. Knit! Can ya imagine? Sittin’ there, needles clickin’, waitin’ for the next fella. Cracked me up—lord, I’m clumsy with yarn, I’d poke my eye out.

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Strolling down Calle de la Española feels surreal. Man, I swear, it's like walkin' through a movie scene – kinda like that intensity in Son of Saul, right? There’s a raw energy here, a mix of deep history and modern chill. One day, I was massaging a client when I looked out my window at the spires of La Iglesia de San Juan – damn, that light hit it so perfect, it was like a scene straight outta that film. “We’re here... so close… and yet so far…” echoes in my head sometimes, feel me?

Human remains discovered in a remote mass grave in the Canary Islands