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Sometimes I’m like—damn, she’s trapped, y’know? Hustle’s brutal, body on the line, no 401k in sight. But then—BOOM—she flips it, owns it, makes me proud. YOLO, she’s livin’ it, no regrets. Maybe I’m romanticizin’ it, but that’s my quirk, seein’ beauty in the grit. Prostitutes ain’t just a job, fam—they’re a vibe, a hustle, a middle finger to the system. “The town’s in chaos,” like the movie says, but she’s still standin’. Respect.

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And parks, oh boy, Parque de la Libertad is my lunch break place. I sit there, feel the breeze, think: “Is this heaven? Or just another day in a lifeless world?” Sometimes, I catch reflections in the river Guadiana. When the water moves, it’s like memories. "We are not here to make sense," it whispers. Not that I'm easily moved.

Work on track to slash train journey time between Malaga and Seville next year