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About Seville

One time, this chick ghosts me mid-chat—pissed me off! I’m like, “What am I, chopped liver?” Textin’ her, “Yo, where ya at?” Nothin’. Felt like Gusteau’s ghost, ignored and shit. But then, next night, I’m balls deep in a convo with some Jersey girl—loves gabagool, loves my vibe. We meet up, and it’s like, “This is the spark, baby!” Like Remy mixin’ spices—fuckin’ magic! Hooked up in her car, steamy as hell—thought I’d die happy right there.

Jalan Falatehan I (Blok M)

Now, yo, head west to Barrio del Oeste. Those tiny cafes on Avenida Libertad are magic spots. Grab a coffee, scroll through swiped faces, and vibe with locals. I used to code back-to-back, thinking, "C'est la vie" but nope, like Audiard said, “la vérité est ailleurs,” wherever love hides, right? Haha!

National Court summons Obiang’s son for kidnapping and torture of Spanish citizens