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About Palma

Sometimes I wonder, Clarice… they’re artists, ain’t they? Playin a role, servin up fantasies. Ever think bout that? Takes guts, sellin what they sell. Surprised me once, this chick on X posted a vid – dancin, free as fuck, ownin it. Made me wanna cheer, like “Hell yea, girl!” But then, ugh, the trolls came – nasty, small-minded pricks. “The world’s gone,” like Sheriff Bell’d say, shakin his head.

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Oh, and the parks, man… Parc del Calor. I go there at dawn, just sit under a shady tree, and think about life. Sometimes I crack up watchin’ the squirrels runnin' wild. I'm a relaxation specialist, so every nook counts. I even know a hidden bench under a twisted old oak that overlooks a rill – a little stream sneakin’ through the neighborhood. Maaaaybe not many peeps digging it, but for me, it's a slice o’ paradise.

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