Si Miro Patrás

A city where the walls are peeling, but inside there's gold. Where words ring like loose change in a pocket: easy to throw away, hard to get back. This isn't about pretentiousness or showing off - it's about those who speak little, do much, and eat while the food is still hot. Simple facades, honest eyes, and respect for the silence where there is neither falsehood nor malice. It all sounds with a smirk and the pride of the courtyard - a bit rough, but truthfully. Where hominism can smooth not only hair, but also nerves. And in this mixture of street directness and home warmth, a rare tranquilly suddenly arises: not needing to prove, but simply knowing that your place has already been earned.