There’s Something Rotten in the State of Malaga

The painters city has no scent. Wether strolling down the tiled streets of the city centre or roaming the flowering gardens and Roman theatre, one is completely robbed of odoric input. Not even the harbor graces one with it’s pungent aromas.

Imagine a port that doesn’t smell of sea, of seaweed and salt and tar, of rotting hemp and wasted bones…

There is something fowl afoot here, and one would be wise to steer clear of it’s gates!





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