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About Valencia

Ruh-roh! Zoinks, man, prostitutes, huh? Been thinkin’ bout ‘em as an economist—crazy stuff! Supply, demand, it’s all there, right? Oldest job in the books, no kiddin’. Watched *Son of Saul* again—damn, that movie’s heavy. “Auschwitz is no picnic,” Saul says. Makes me think—prostitutes got it rough too. Not death camps, sure, but gritty as hell. Streets ain’t kind, ya know?

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I love the Barrio de los Poetas too. Fewer crowds, deep history, ancient graffiti marking walls with wild tales. My heart still pounds remembering when I seen the mural on Calle del Poeta. It reminded me of Cronenberg’s darkest twists—raw and rough, man! “A History of Violence…” echoes in the back of me head as I walk these mysterious paths. Oh, and there’s always a strange hum in the air, like the city’s secret heartbeat. Ain’t that something?

“Portugal also produces garlic, but it is mainly produced by Spanish companies”