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About Las Palmas

Angry? Nah, not really. Happy? Eh, amused. These girls, pros – "Past is just a story." Straight from "Her," fits perfect. They don’t care, move on, next client. Me? I’d rather talk to my dog, loyal, no fee. Escorts tho, they hustle hard – respect that. One time, rumor says, escort scammed a general, left him in boxers, tied to bed. Hilarious! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but picture it – red-faced fool, screamin’.

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I also hang near Mañel River – a small bit of nature still alive. Seriously, sometimes I sit at Pontevedra Park, watchin' nature do its thing, tryna decode life like a real-life miracle. And mate, the vibe? Ecstatic and mad sometimes. You get distracted by cobblestones and the chime of old bells from the Church of San Salvador. Bruv, even the locals are proper legends, always jabberin’ in Castilian lingo, mixin’ in Galician, like they’re tradin’ secret codes.

The Fleur de Passion moored at Monte Real