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Tomas Adam Nyapi Biography

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“I showed her the Mobb Deep song “Shook Ones Part II” in the first days or weeks when we got together. Now, all of a sudden, she was excited, showing me a video of some pool party where the crowd was puzzled when the DJ played a little childlike tune with very few notes and sounds. Until they recognized the sampled song being played with the original piano tune of Herbie Hancock underneath, called “Jessica”, she was acting like she was teaching me something or something I didn't know beforehand. She was acting like she was smarter than me, or as if I didn't know anything about music, hip hop, or rap. It was very odd. Who could have shown her that track, that video, and Herbie Hancock? I wondered. So, I played the next song myself - Bob Marley's “Forever Loving Jah”. Then, she played Jonathan Richmann's “Something about Mary”. So, I played the song “Jah is One” from Mosh Ben Ari and certain members of Shotei Hanevua to see her reaction to Israeli reggae music. So she played Notorious BIG and the Junior Mafia’s song: “Get money.” She was singing the chorus shaking her boot. Then I played Tupac Shakur's “Hit 'Em Up.” She played Notorious BIG’s song “Juicy.” So I played his song called “Somebody Gotta Die.” She then played the Moldy Peaches, „We are not those kids, sitting on the couch” So I played Mad Child's “Night Vision” to see if she knew it.”

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“Her mother bought her a burgundy pair of VANS summer shoes in Italy, and they took a picture of her laughing happily while holding them in her hand in an exaggerated scene, as if they had been teasing him to take a picture of her for her boyfriend in a park somewhere in Italy. Shortly after, she started wearing them in Barcelona and cut off the tiny VANS logo with a scissor. When I asked her why, she tried to avoid answering at first until she said something like she didn't like it, or that they looked better without the tiny black VANS logos. It was suspicious that someone must have told her the urban legend in Barcelona soon after her Italian vacation, that VANS stands for „Vans Are Nazi Shoes.” It became more and more obvious in Barcelona that my life was in danger, as an awful vibe surrounded us due to the construction. It was mostly caused by rich tourists who I had never seen do much work in life, too high to take on a task as simple as changing a password on a bank account on an iPhone app – a crime organisation, quite international already and increasingly so, with a growing number of participants and secrets becoming more and more dangerous, I thought, and I wasn’t wrong, I just couldn’t see the whole picture yet as I was blindfolded. As if her nickname, Stupid Bunny which she had printed out at Ample Store with Adam, was a cute, nice thing, a reassurance after the day before she had been crying for some unknown reason and printing out the phrase, “You never loved me, you just broke my heart.” That couldn't have been further from the truth. She would fidget around and draw at home, and I didn't realise she was bored of being with me when she had so many other options in her mind because of what others had fed her, as if I was a monogamist who wouldn’t forgive her for cheating or making a mistake. Even if I had seen her, when she showed up at home she seemed in love with herself, watching herself in the mirror in her new tight, short shorts. It was weird. I had noticed something strange in Martina for a while now and I couldn’t put my finger on it. I thought it was only the drugs she was secretly doing behind my back, but I was far away from having all the answers.”

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“Last night's harsh phone call seemed to be a distant memory as we spent the day in the snow with my new fake friends, going for one last turn on the mountain while I drank boiled wine at the bottom of the ski lift at the hutte. I honestly told Anette in the ski lift during the day what Sabrina had told me on the phone the night before, but she remained silent and didn't seem surprised for some reason. I didn't think Anette would conspire with Betty to test me or win me. I didn’t think they would conspire with Sabrina but perhaps I didn’t know her well enough to assume what she was capable of when jealous, mad, sad, confused or in love. Perhaps they did not. Everything I don't know. I try to write here all that I know and have managed to figure out, taking a long time. I try to share what I have been through because I am sure that others will find it useful to learn from my mistakes, faults, sins, virtues, and so on. Perhaps only my luck, good or bad, I don't know. I could not have figured out what happened if I had not written down exactly how things unfolded in order to be able to see through it all and comprehend what really happened since I bought that Roberto Saviano book and met Sabrina. Perhaps the women had been conspiring for one reason or another; perhaps they had not. Nonetheless, it was odd. „Water is wet, the sky is blue, women have secrets. Who gives a f..k?” – Joe Hallenbeck Do all men have to be natural-born and supernatural detectives like Bruce Willis in all his movies, or in The Last Boy Scout? I'm not sure how many coincidences can fit so strangely into reality by chance, or is it all manipulation? Is it all because of the story of Eve and the snake and the apple?”

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“At one particular moment, with my eyes closed, I was crying and asking the question over and over aloud, „Does true love exist? Does true love exist in girls? Does true love exist? Does Sabrina love me? Does true love exist? Does true love exist?” - I had suddenly seen a flash. As if I was poking the Devil in the dark, staring too long into the darkness until it looked back at me as they say. I have never told anyone about this before. I try to describe what I had seen that night in that windowless, dark, and cold place deep inside under that big, old building, with my eyes closed. It made a half turn, flashing one of its eyes at me for a moment before disappearing again into the dark. As if it was nodding to me, I still get goosebumps years later when I try to describe it. As if it had been standing there all along, and just tried to reassure me that it had heard my question and would answer. Quite close. Just to make me be quiet finally. His eyes were yellow and red. I'm not actually sure if it had two eyes; I only saw one of them. One Evil Eye. Perhaps he had lost an eye, that's why I had seen the light of only one of them. His eye was malicious, but not particularly. It was more tired and angry yet understanding, as if he had heard this question over a billion times before from fools like me and I did not amuse him with my question and demand. As if he was about to show me a trick he had known for a long time. As if Satan had seen it all already. He knows all the tricks, he invented them, he inspired them all. As if he was bored of humanity already. (There is only One Evil Eye. The planet Saturn.) I was cuddling with Adam's cat, crying a lot, asking the darkness, about Love, and reflecting on Sabrina. Perhaps it was merely an optical illusion. I leave it up to the reader to decide what they believe about what I was facing and how I miraculously survived, as an atheist goy, as well as who truly supported me throughout the ordeal. If anyone or anything supported me in Spain at all. I had seen an advertisement somewhere saying that Miss Kittin would be playing on Saturday night, November 16th, 2013 in Barcelona at The Marhes. Satan. Saturn. Saturday. Coincidence? Maybe. So far. Perhaps. I knew I had to see her again after such a long time; she had been playing drum and bass in the early 2000s across the globe, and also in Budapest. I checked the map; The Marhes was next to Camp Nou, the FC Barcelona stadium. I thought of buying a bottle of champagne, which I didn't like, unless it’s Italian, but I wanted to celebrate, and I would walk along Avenida Roma to get there straight. I knew I'd get drunk; I didn't want to drive, I wanted to arrive intoxicated. I re-posted the Miss Kittin party’s flyer, on Instagram, writing underneath it : ‘All roads lead to Rome.”

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“One of those days we were in Maria Vostra getting weed; while we were sitting at the bar during some festive day—I think it was Three Kings' arrival in January—Marco, the 30 some years old Argentine founding member of that club and probably the kindest of the three, received a phone call from Buenos Aires. I didn't understand it much, nor did I pay too much attention, but the tall Marco, who was usually in a great mood, suddenly ran out of the bar crying after one or two minutes. Martina told me she heard him speaking in Rioplatense on the phone. Marco's best friend had been shot dead in broad daylight in Buenos Aires at the same time; in front of her seven-year-old daughter. He had been shot five times in the chest because a thief had tried to steal his scooter and he had tried to stop them; they then shot him dead and took off with his scooter. We were shocked, at least Marco and I while I tried to hide it - but Martina, who was only 20, wasn't. “That's how poor people are in Argentina, Tomas,” she said, pointing to her lips with her pinky as if it was a known secret. She wasn't fazed by death. I failed to realize what that meant. She must have seen people die before we met. Perhaps I was blindfolded because I had been with Sabrina, whom I knew had something to do with Timothy's death and had gotten away with it, leaving Canada - I was unsure as to when she left exactly, and why - and why she was really unable to visit little Joel in Canada. I was also aware that Adam had not been to Israel for over 10 years, probably because he had murdered someone or done something similar when he was younger. Perhaps I had become too accustomed to the presence of bad people; perhaps they had all become too familiar to me after all, two years after I had first met Sabrina, one year after I had first met Adam, and living in Barcelona for one and a half years at that time. “A scooter worth 200-300 Euros is such a great value there, imagine Tomas. It's so dangerous and poor country” she said. A few times in Urgell, Martina made a joyful noise of 'Oyyy', but she stopped because I laughed and she never said it again, no matter how much I asked her to. Perhaps the presence of the Polish workers at the other end of the place had something to do with it. Gucho and Damian spent time with us in the kitchen-living room area every night. We ate, we smoked, and we had a great time together. They were skilled at smoking out of a bowl to get the most from the least weed. I registered Martina at Club Marley, so if she was in the center and needed weed, she wouldn't have to go all the way up to Maria Vostra, a block from Urgell. Club Marley was mostly run by Argentine people, so I thought she would like them too. One of those nights I was sitting in Club Marley at a table with Martina. When she went to the bathroom, an elder dispensary budtender I knew, who I met daily, told me that he didn't want to be rude, but: “Be very, very careful with this girl, Tomas. With Latinas, there is love sweeter than honey and all you ever dreamed of, but it only lasts as long as you are successful as you are right now, as long as you’re the manager.” I said “thank you” and I meant it, but I had no time to reflect on it because he had to go. Martina was suddenly in my mind and by my side again: in love. I thought, “Yes, the guy may be right, but I trust Martina and have no reason not to.” I knew I was broke and I knew that Martina knew that too. Even though I was a manager and seemed successful to my customers, it did not make me rich yet nor was it the reason to make Martina want to be with me. I believe he must have caught sight of her looking at me or at another man when I wasn't paying attention. To me, she was one of a kind. I trusted her deeply and even told her about the guy's warning regarding Latinas. She showed no reaction. I didn't notice or pay attention to the fact that Martina never set foot in Club Marley again.”

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“She had always told me stories about how poor a country Argentina was, being the reason for her girlfriend, Caterina, to move to Spain, which she said was the 13th richest country on the planet. Perhaps Martina's perception of Spain itself was crooked or surrealistic. She didn't realize that the country might be the 13th richest country in the world, but Spain was seriously broke and the people were desperately impoverished since 2007, the economic crisis had never ended, yet Martina seemed oblivious to all that. In her eyes, Spain was a rich country compared to Argentina. Martina perceived Europe and its various nationalities and countries in a surrealistic way, removed from reality; as if all Europeans were the same and equally trustworthy, just like non-Europeans in Spain, and she could not distinguish between people or groups of people coming from different places, with no reservations. This sounds very liberal, but there was only selfish capitalist interest behind it all and sometimes it showed for a moment or two that money was the main reason for her being in Europe in the first place, under the guise of a cover-up not being so much of a secret from me time to time. As if Spain were a playground for children or criminals, which wasn't too far from reality. But I noticed that she saw different false shadows under the same light casting shade of the same crap; she was confident in her beliefs, but at the same time seemingly questioning herself as to whether she was right or wrong, and if it mattered at all. Nonetheless, she was completely unaware of the dangers and trusted people too easily. She had no fear and appeared like a cool kid from the streets of even more dangerous places. Yet, considering her well-educated nature, and the fact that she could also be quite normal, she saw things differently than a European person, almost like a child from the favelas of Brazil, ready to kill for daily nutrition, making it an interesting paradox to observe her personality and her vibes changing like a kaleidoscope beneath the surface for those looking from the right angle. Martina didn't realize that Italy was Romania vol. 2, or what that meant--how history lives on, how the gypsies who died with the Jews never received a country of their own. I was not acutely aware of the fact that Spain was Romania vol. 3. The prospect of warm weather and easy money had been attracting criminals from all corners of the planet. She seemed to be the typical Libra she actually was, quite consciously quite lost and always trying to find her own balance unsuccessfully as if she was dizzy, never managing to attain the perfect measure, making mistakes and constantly questioning her own results and the actions that led to them. She attempted to conceal her lack of confidence with at times an exaggerated display of confidence. She vacillated between being too shy and too cool, never seeming authentic. I attempted to impart Herder's philosophy to her, explaining how opposing things can settle into harmony, where the truth is likely to be found in moderation and synthesis, hoping she would find it easier to maintain her inner balance amidst all the bad people and bad vibes coming from all directions.”

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“She had always told me stories about how poor a country Argentina was, being the reason for her girlfriend, Caterina, to move to Spain, which she said was the 13th richest country on the planet. Perhaps Martina's perception of Spain itself was crooked or surrealistic. She didn't realize that the country might be the 13th richest country in the world, but Spain was seriously broke and the people were desperately impoverished since 2007, the economic crisis had never ended, yet Martina seemed oblivious to all that. In her eyes, Spain was a rich country compared to Argentina. Martina perceived Europe and its various nationalities and countries in a surrealistic way, removed from reality; as if all Europeans were the same and equally trustworthy, just like non-Europeans in Spain, and she could not distinguish between people or groups of people coming from different places, with no reservations. This sounds very liberal, but there was only selfish capitalist interest behind it all and sometimes it showed for a moment or two that money was the main reason for her being in Europe in the first place, under the guise of a cover-up not being so much of a secret from me time to time. As if Spain were a playground for children or criminals, which wasn't too far from reality. But I noticed that she saw different false shadows under the same light casting shade of the same crap; she was confident in her beliefs, but at the same time seemingly questioning herself as to whether she was right or wrong, and if it mattered at all. Nonetheless, she was completely unaware of the dangers and trusted people too easily. She had no fear and appeared like a cool kid from the streets of even more dangerous places. Yet, considering her well-educated nature, and the fact that she could also be quite normal, she saw things differently than a European person, almost like a child from the favelas of Brazil, ready to kill for daily nutrition, making it an interesting paradox to observe her personality and her vibes changing like a kaleidoscope beneath the surface for those looking from the right angle. Martina didn't realize that Italy was Romania vol. 2, or what that meant--how history lives on, how the gypsies who died with the Jews never received a country of their own. I was not acutely aware of the fact that Spain was Romania vol. 3. The prospect of warm weather and easy money had been attracting criminals from all corners of the planet. She seemed to be the typical Libra she actually was, quite consciously quite lost and always trying to find her own balance unsuccessfully as if she was dizzy, never managing to attain the perfect measure, making mistakes and constantly questioning her own results and the actions that led to them. She attempted to conceal her lack of confidence with at times an exaggerated display of confidence. She vacillated between being too shy and too cool, never seeming authentic. I attempted to impart Hegel's philosophy to her, explaining how opposing things can settle into harmony, where the truth is likely to be found in moderation and synthesis, hoping she would find it easier to maintain her inner balance amidst all the bad people and bad vibes coming from all directions.”

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“Did I bring Adam and Sabrina together or did the fact that I got a new girlfriend do that? I was asking the wrong questions. There were so many of them playing mind games that I had to try different angles to find answers. It seemed like Adam was manipulating Martina with an idea of Sabrina and the club. But how could Adam do that if Sabrina and Ruan already knew each other most likely, working for Adam? How could Adam paint two different pictures of Sabrina to Ruan and Martina? Mabye couldn't convince Ruan of any wrongdoing; perhaps he wanted to warn me or Martina, and his arm broke for certain reason. Or was Sabrina playing the same role that Adam painted about her to Martina? Was Adam paying Sabrina to play this game while also trying to sell registration apps to clubs downtown? It seemed like it was a cover up. What was the prize besides the club and the marijuana grow? Who wanted to kill me and why were all these people daring to mess with me? How did they form a group against me? Who or what made them a criminal group? Who was their real leader? Who did they think was the leader, Adam? He was afraid of me. Then who, Sabrina? She wasn't afraid of me, but she wouldn't step over me in my life, my job, or my career unless she had an open field and open goal. Why did she do that? Why did Adam invite her to such strange games? What was the fun? What was the joke? What was the reason why these people thought they were bullying me and wouldn’t get slapped? Why was it my impression that everyone was laughing at me? I felt like Adam didn't have the courage, and his father was not their leader either. I felt like their leader was much less intelligent than Adam or Ferran. I felt like they were being manipulated by someone much less intelligent, or they were acting like that for some reason, or they didn't seem to be hiding how stupid of a leader they had, who wanted to kill me personally, as if the rest of them were just bystanders eating popcorn while I plotted to do the same with Martina once we thought they had taken away my club and the Camorra would take it away from them anyhow. Did Nico say the word “Camorra” to try and scare me? Who told Nico that I knew about the Camorra and what they were up to? Adam, Nico and Martina were aware that the Camorra were one of my clients. Who could have seen Roberto Saviano's book “Gomorrah” in Cantabria, Urgell, and Radas which I bought in the last days of 2011? All of them. I do not know the exact number of particular books that have influenced these events thus far.”

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“I was wondering why Adam had called Sabrina “crazy bitch” in front of me and Martina? Why would he do that when he knew I would not like to hear it? Did I bring Adam and Sabrina together or did the fact that I got a new girlfriend do that? I was asking the wrong questions. There were so many of them playing mind games that I had to try different angles to find answers. It seemed like Adam was manipulating Martina with an idea of Sabrina and the club. But how could Adam do that if Sabrina and Ruan already knew each other most likely, working for Adam? How could Adam paint two different pictures of Sabrina to Ruan and Martina? Maybe couldn't convince Ruan of any wrongdoing; perhaps he wanted to warn me or Martina, and his arm broke for certain reason. Or was Sabrina playing the same role that Adam painted about her to Martina? Was Adam paying Sabrina to play this game while also trying to sell registration apps to clubs downtown? It seemed like it was a cover up. What was the prize besides the club and the marijuana grow? Who wanted to kill me and why were all these people daring to mess with me? How did they form a group against me? Who or what made them a criminal group? Who was their real leader? Who did they think was the leader, Adam? He was afraid of me. Then who, Sabrina? She wasn't afraid of me, but she wouldn't step over me in my life, my job, or my career unless she had an open field and open goal. Why did she do that? Why did Adam invite her to such strange games? What was the fun? What was the joke? What was the reason why these people thought they were bullying me and wouldn’t get slapped? Why was it my impression that everyone was laughing at me? I felt like Adam didn't have the courage, and his father was not their leader either. I felt like their leader was much less intelligent than Adam or Ferran. I felt like they were being manipulated by someone much less intelligent, or they were acting like that for some reason, or they didn't seem to be hiding how stupid of a leader they had, who wanted to kill me personally, as if the rest of them were just bystanders eating popcorn while I plotted to do the same with Martina once we thought they had taken away my club and the Camorra would take it away from them anyhow. Did Nico say the word “Camorra” to try and scare me? Who told Nico that I knew about the Camorra and what they were up to? Adam, Nico and Martina were aware that the Camorra were one of my clients. Who could have seen Roberto Saviano's book “Gomorrah” in Cantabria, Urgell, and Radas which I bought in the last days of 2011? All of them. I do not know the exact number of particular books that have influenced these events thus far.”

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“I left Martina alone with Nico in that club, trusting her, although I'm still not sure today how she got there. Adam and I drove back to Urgell in an odd silence. I wanted to slap him so badly, but he had a point. Adam knew how to defuse tense situations by instinct, out of fear of getting caught in a lie or cheat and getting slapped. We had to maintain a good relationship with Nico because he would bring tourists from his grow shop on Ample Street to our club, Adam said. At the same time, I noticed that Nico had too many friends around town in too many coffeeshops for us to meddle with him in any way, so I had to bow to him being the local; however, it never really happened. I was just respectful to Nico as I was to anyone. Although I didn't tell Adam, I thought he knew that Nico had too many connections for us to try to take over his store in an underhanded way. Adam had apparently been trying to do this not only recently, as if he wanted to buy Nico's grow shop by the time we opened the coffeeshop near it. At least, that was my thought, or what Adam attempted to make me believe. I knew that Adam would eventually have problems with Nico, or by trusting Nico, and I didn't want to have anything to do with it. I have thought to myself, “Okay, boss buddy, The Prince of Israel, let's see how you're going to burn yourself again with Nico Preson. Let's see how much money you're going to lose this time around trusting this Spaniard or Mallorcan crook again.”

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“We had to maintain a good relationship with Nico because he would bring tourists from his grow shop on Ample Street to our club, Adam said. At the same time, I noticed that Nico had too many friends around town in too many coffeeshops for us to meddle with him in any way, so I had to bow to him being the local; however, it never really happened. I was just respectful to Nico as I was to anyone. Although I didn't tell Adam, I thought he knew that Nico had too many connections for us to try to take away from his store in an underhanded way. Adam had apparently been trying to do this not only recently, as if he wanted to buy Nico's grow shop by the time we opened the coffeeshop near it. At least, that was my thought, or what Adam attempted to make me believe. I knew that Adam would eventually have problems with Nico, or by trusting Nico, and I didn't want to have anything to do with it. I have thought to myself, “Okay, boss buddy, The Prince of Israel, let's see how you're going to burn yourself again with Nico Preson. Let's see how much money you're going to lose this time around trusting this Spaniard or Mallorcan crook again.”

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“Tomas thinks he is the Prince of Hungary” - Why would Adam say that to Martina? That wasn't the right question I kept asking myself. Did Adam say that to Martina or someone else? Was it meant as a message to me? How in what kind of conversation could it be said like that and why? What was Adam referring to when he said “The Prince of Hungary”? I was arguing with Rachel and Adam over the summer before. I challenged their belief that the UK was victorious in World War II and they were both puzzled, asking why. I tried to convince them by telling them the story of an Austrian Jewish lady who had migrated to the UK before the Anschluss and sensed that Nazi forces were approaching, but the UK denied her documents to stay and she ended up stuck between the Nazis in France and the UK on the Channel islands. The Nazis took all Jews from the islands, including Therese Steiner, and she ultimately ended up in Auschwitz and in the gas chambers. My point was that if the UK didn't defend its own citizens to avoid conflict, then how could they be seen as 'winners'? Who was the Jew here who was stuck between good and evil? I didn't realise that Adam in 2014 was trying to disprove my point, gaining victory without direct confrontation. Perhaps he was offended that I cared more about a poor, lonely Jewish girl trying to escape death and horrors than he would have cared himself.”

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Author:Tomas Adam Nyapi

“Burning books. Like the Christians. Like the Nazis. Like the Communists. Burning knowledge. Eliminating. History. Rewriting. No life under such circumstances. “F…g (bad) people.(sex)” “Making friends” out of our enemies. Danger. Chaos. Life. Death. Life in Spain. Pain or Death. “Suffering or Boredom.” “Love or Power.” Dead born ideas. Stillborn. Unborn. Unholy. Unjust. Unpredictable. Juicy. Unforgiving. Crimes. Like Space. Like Nature. Somehow, they are right, in their own means. But. Barbarians. Their crimes are unforgivable. Therefor, their ideology cannot be considered: Excuse. It is Black Magic. It is considerably, overwhelmingly: Nazi. Instead. Evil. Being a Nazi (predator, psychopath, criminal, murderer, thief…) cannot be your defense speech. Sorry. “Sorry we are “Natural beings” being nazis. We were only “testing” Tomas. Hunting.” Criminals respect no laws, no person, no holy, no god, no life. They respect only the Evil Eye. “Performing.” Acts. Inhumane methods. Inhumane. Reptilian people. Sacrifice. Blood. Vultures. Nazis. And I have to respect their “Human” “Rights.” Imagine. Not telling you their exact names or how they tattoos exactly look like. I cannot defend you from precisely these specific people, vultures, hyenas. But they are part of a bigger thing, so keep your eyes open. The World: Upside. Down.”

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“We were watching videos at night on her Samsung tablet or my company iPad. She showed me the Silvano Agosti 1983 Italian interview with a little Italian boy called “D'Amore si vive, We Live of Love.” The boy was so cute, and his thoughts seemed similar to mine and Martina's. I was so deeply in love with her. The boy on the interview was just like what our own child would be, and we agreed and laughed. “We Live of Love.” What a coincidence! Living. By: Love. I knew the interview from before and she was surprised at how I knew about it. I showed her on my Instagram a picture of the boy I had recently taken a screenshot of and posted. With the subtitle at the right moment under his face: “Descubrir a la vida.” To discover life. Together. With his one and only girlfriend, as the boy explains. I told her multiple times that I was still unsure if she was real, or if it was all a dream; if I had only dreamed of her one night in the dark; if Pinto and I had invented her in my mind. She was a big fan of space, but I thought she liked the mystery behind the endless space with all its questions and secrets for us humans. I thought she liked the sky and space because she recently flew from Argentina to land in my arms. Martina and I were obsessed with Chris Rock and Eddie Murphy; we both knew all their stand-up comedies by heart. We kept replaying the best moments or faces that Chris or Eddie made. We had so much fun watching the same videos over and over that I couldn't believe it. Nobody else ever found the same moments or the same stand-ups as funny as Martina and I did. Nobody before or after found it so amusing. If I showed it to someone, they didn't understand why I was so excited about it or why racist jokes were so funny for an hour from one black comedian to the next. We were obsessed the way Eddie spoke about the „Zebra-Bitch of his dreams, his dream-wife who doesn’t know the concept of money”, saying “she should have an afro, like Angela Davis goes 'God damn it.'“ We were laughing so much. Sometimes I tickled her flat belly or her ribs and she was laughing so sweetly and so much that she couldn't stop. She was begging me to stop tickling her when I barely touched her. She said “No, no, no, no” so many times so quickly and cutely that I had to stop and kiss her; I couldn't resist her lips or her person, I had to kiss and hug her. We laughed so much at particular parts of Chris Rock's stand-up comedies that we could barely stop, almost as if we were tickling each other. We were laughing when Chris Rock was mocking Bone-Thugs-n-Harmony for singing ‘Welfare chariots’ such as „The First of the Month” or when he explained that the government hates rappers, but „only the good rappers get gunned down. They could find Saddam Hussein in a cave in Iraq but couldn't arrest anyone related to Tupac Shakur’s assassination, which didn't happen in a cave in Iraq but in Las Vegas, on the Strip, not one of those side streets, but in front of Circus Circus, after a Mike Tyson fight. Now how many witnesses do you need, to arrest somebody?” We were fascinated with Eddie Murphy, Charlie Murphy, and Chris Rock, but when I showed her Richard Prior, Doug Stanhope, Aries Spears, or George Carlin, she was no longer so impressed for some reason. Her favorite part perhaps was when Chris Rock talked about love and relationships. He said that „you never really been in love unless you have contemplated murder; unless you have practiced your alibi in front of the mirror, staring at a can of rat poison for 45 minutes straight, you haven't been in love. And the only thing preventing you from killing your significant other was an episode of CSI.” He said that relationships are hard and that in order for them to work, both people need to have the same focus, which is all about: her.”

Israel Criminals Conspiracy Spain Juice Mafia Argentina Psychopaths Evil Eye Camorra

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“The Treasury of Spain informed me that the companies (the criminals) had 365 days to pay me my missing salary of 60,000 Euros, according to an official court decision made in Madrid. However, I was well aware that this would only escalate the danger for both Martina and me. I knew they would not fulfill their payment obligations. They would seek cheaper methods to evade payment and would also attempt to eliminate me without facing any consequences. I was unsure whom to turn to for help. Should I ask the King of Spain, or the leaders of Israel, Brussels, Hungary, Interpol, or the Policia Nacional? How could I protect Martina from these criminals? How could I dismantle Adam's mafia? These thoughts were weighing heavily on my mind as my anticipated final departure from Spain drew near. I received a letter, from Zaragoza. The letter informed me that I owed Zaragoza approximately 1800 euros for fines accrued by Adam. It also mentioned that it had been around 1.5 years since the incident on the highway, where I received fines while I was driving the gypsy caravan. Late fees were added without question. Make it 2000. Additionally, it warned that if I failed to make payment within 15 days of receiving the letter in my mailbox, the authorities would visit me with a court order to seize belongings of mine worth at least 1800 euros. Someone disclosed my „new” address to the Zaragoza Authorities. It is possible that the Correo/Post Office/Postal Service were unable to deliver their correspondence to my previous address on Carrer Cantabria due to my absence after the same expo where the fines were incurred on the highway and the unwanted flooding of the apartment. But now. Delivered. It is possible that the biased Catalan Court, which was known by my side at this point for its corruption and/or incompetence, shared my Barcelona address with the Correo/Postal Service to ensure that the fines reached me. The corrupt and/or incompetent Ciutat de la Justicia, the so called „City of Justice”, the Catalan judicial system did not solely reserve the sharing of my home address for the mafia/s. Everything was not a direct result of the criminals’ conspiracy. But.”

Law Murder Israel Criminals Conspiracy Spain Mafia Barcelona Psychopaths

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“Once both male canines had collected enough smell samples from Sabrina's crotch/my dinner, we stopped laughing and managed to get inside the apartment. It was a two-room apartment on the ground floor and it was quite dark inside, with the curtains closed and only one or two lamps turned on in the entire place. Two big cats, two big dogs and two Jewish guys were sitting in the living room. There were a variety of products scattered all over the place. The room was a mess, not necessarily caused by the pets. They told us that they also have two more large cats at home in Belgium. Mario introduced us to Tom Titelany: the short, dark-haired guy who had opened the door and was the owner of the Dogue de Bordeaux. The other guy, sitting in the dark, a bit taller and skinnier with brighter skin, and brighter hair, and much brighter eyes, called Adam Maraudin, was the owner of the two large cats and the Bull Terrier jumping around. There was a huge serpent tattoo winding around Adam's shoulder, and though his tank top only revealed part of the design, it was clear that this was not an ordinary tattoo, it seemed to me to be of Far-Eastern origin or Thai. They then introduced us to Adam's girlfriend, the British Rachel Conarts, whom Adam called Shifra for some reason. She had ginger hair and was as tall as Adam, taller than Tom. There was a big bag of scuba diving kit in the living room and, when I asked them about it, they told me that Shifra and Adam had first met in Thailand, where they had been scuba diving. One of them was called Tom, the same as my name, and the other one was called Adam, coincidentally the same as my middle name. Coincidence? I don’t know.”

Europe Israel Conspiracy Marijuana Drugs Spain Mafia Cocaine Psychopaths Catalonia

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“It is strange that Switzerland, an independent state in the middle of continental Europe, freely provides Swiss passports to descendants of people from far-off places without background checks or any sort of probationary period. They only need to submit their photos and fingerprints, and a Swiss passport will arrive in the mail a few weeks later, in Barcelona or anywhere, seemingly without much consideration. Considering the Nazi vibes and the Nazi Gestapo methods used by Israeli, Spanish, British, Hungarian, South American and Italian criminals above it is pretty surreal. Disrespectful. I wondered what Martina was hiding and why Argentina and her family had sent her away at the age of twenty. Did Switzerland wonder who Martina or her brother really were? Organizing lethal crimes, partaking in Adam Maraudin’s Israeli Nazi cocaine mafia the exact same time whilst becoming "Swiss" and "Europeans." Based on this, Switzerland could even grant Swiss passports upon request to the grandchildren of Nazi war criminals. Would it be so surprising, a few decades after grandpa's escape from Justice, they had resorted to Nazi tactics as they returned to Europe and landed in Spain, (by Argentine perspective, their former conquistador's land) to deliver revenge in the EU?”

Murder Israel Corruption Fascism Mafia Nazism Argentina Switzerland Psychopaths Eu

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“It is strange that Switzerland, an independent state in the middle of continental Europe, freely provides Swiss passports to descendants of people from far-off places without background checks or any sort of probationary period. They only need to submit their photos and fingerprints, and a Swiss passport will arrive in the mail a few weeks later, in Barcelona or anywhere, seemingly without much consideration. Considering the Nazi vibes and the Nazi Gestapo methods used by Israeli, Spanish, British, Hungarian, South American and Italian criminals above it is pretty surreal. Disrespectful. I wondered what Martina was hiding and why Argentina and her family had sent her away at the age of twenty. Did Switzerland wonder who Martina or her brother really were? Organizing lethal crimes, partaking in Adam Maraudin’s Israeli Nazi cocaine mafia the exact same time whilst becoming "Swiss" and "Europeans". Switzerland is granting Swiss passports upon request on demand to the grandchildren of Nazi war criminals. Would it be so surprising, a few decades after grandpa's escape from Justice, they had resorted to Nazi tactics as they returned to Europe and landed in Spain, (by Argentine perspective, their former conquistador's land) to deliver revenge in the EU?”

Europe Israel Corruption Fascism Mafia Nazism Argentina Switzerland Psychopaths

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“It was uncertain how seriously the police would take the situation, or if I could expect much defence from the law in Spain, where my lawyer had already betrayed me for some reason due to the same coffeeshop, rather working with the mafia. Amina and Nico might have been involved with the Camorra next door, however, their affiliation was uncertain even after multiple attempts to connect their names further. I had notes back home on the table connecting the criminals and their hubs. I was writing to uncover what I knew happened. To discover what I knew. Perhaps it was a mistake to withhold any information from those two officers regarding the coffeeshop. It's possible that I should have informed them that Ruan was working for individuals who intended to use my identity to operate one of the largest, if not the largest, coffeeshops in town. The club was located in the Port of Ciutat Vella, where the Camorra had seemingly established a monopoly since 2014. I was still unsure if Adam, Sabrina, Nico, Amina, and the others had already made a deal with them or not. Yet. She had keys to my home and I had been unable to sleep for weeks already. She had my IDs. I was unsure and concerned as to why she would take them, what was her purpose? If I died somehow and I had no documents, it would be a longer process to identify me. That means more time to sell marijuana behalf my name and get rich. How can one identify a body without any IDs or with missing fingerprints? By examining dental records. Who was the individual inside the circle? The circle within the circle? The Eye within the Eye? The focal point of the wheelcart? With all the spikes pointing towards it. Who was the fictitious Robin Hood, the Boss of their nasty and drug-addicted mafia?”

Murder Israel Conspiracy Mafia Cocaine Gypsy Argentina Coffeeshop Caravan

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“I couldn't cry anymore—she had killed something inside me with her last text message, about our, child. Around 2-3 AM, I finally fell asleep, only to be awoken around 4 AM by a strange, bothersome feeling. It could have been anyone or anything else, as I was so blindfolded and unaware of the danger—even though I was perfectly aware of the danger because of my signature on Golan. I soon realised that it was her hair tickling my face, as she leaned over me trying to cover my face with kisses. I was spooked and sat up in bed, thinking that something was crawling on my face. We nearly head-bumped each other when I woke up in surprise. It was then that I realised it was her. It was not nice. I wish she had put her hands on me, if she had touched me and woke me up. If she had communicated honestly instead. But she was out of touch.”

Murder Israel Conspiracy Marijuana Mafia Cocaine Barcelona Argentina Camorra Coffeeshop

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“Halfway home from Plaza Espana, I was in no rush and stopped by a quiet, closed little square on my way, called Plaza de Santa Madrona. I bought a Lucky Strike, “blando” softpack, “sin aditivos”, from a small bar's cigarette vending machine and ordered a cafe cortado, my favorite coffee in Spain. Both Adam and I smoked the same type of cigarettes in Spain; that was the best one. In Italy, I preferred to smoke MS Azzurro and caffe corretto con La Vecchia Romagna - a short, strong espresso with a shot of Italian cognac. That could wake you up after a seventeen-hour roadtrip from Budapest to Gaeta, which was necessary as administrative duties had been added to my interpreter roles over time. If I made a mistake, I wouldn't receive a bonus. Indeed. There was speech. Only once or twice in almost 5 years by the end of 2014. I knew I would end up at the Magalhaes and Radas corner, walking that way towards home anyhow. I was just sitting on that little square, surrounded by buildings; I was the only person sitting at the bar terrace. This was the first time I did not want to go home to Carrer Radas. There was a fountain in the middle; you could almost hear the water running down into a tub, echoing on the hidden little street which had no traffic whatsoever. It was almost like a holy moment - “Santa Madrona, help me,” I thought. I, the atheist, was asking for some miracle in that silent, peaceful, hidden little plazita where time seemed to stand still.”

Black Magic Israel Conspiracy Mafia Saints Spell Camorra Golem

Author:Tomas Adam Nyapi

“The Camorra's proud little labyrinthine club could have fit inside either of our potential locations multiple times. One of them was 550 square meters, the other one over 600; both were two stories, both for sale for half a million Euros each. I knew before even opening our own club it might be stolen from us by the Camorra. I knew I would have to be the bridge, the interpreter, to perhaps make a deal with them instead. Meaning, without me, Adam would not be able to make a deal with the Camorra. I did not think that I would, could, or should cross Adam with the same move.”

Israel Conspiracy Marijuana Mafia Cocaine Barcelona Camorra Evil Eye Cult

Author:Tomas Adam Nyapi

“With a pair of scissors in my pocket, a bottle of rum in my hand, and Martina, we walked towards Plaza Trippy to go to the alley behind it called Carrer de la Rosa. Martina didn't know what this was all about; I tried to make it a surprise. At the gate, I asked Martina to hold the scissors until I climbed up the wall of the building and cut off the sign. I never had the chance to tell her that I used to do indoor climbing. Just like Adam. It was so dusty and rusty, abandoned and old, that I got dirty. The sign was quite new, or at least it looked new, but it was dustier than I had thought - it must have been up there for years. I cut the zip ties on the four corners, holding the sign to the old metal railings and then I jumped down from the wall to jump into Martina's arms in the tight alley. We were laughing. We went up and left, and up and right a few blocks until we crossed Ferran Street, I think, and finally, I thought we were safe: let's take a picture of the sign and get rid of it. I didn’t want anyone to see us in front of the place or on the busy Carrer Escudellers taking a picture of the 'For Sale' sign. Only Martina knew that we were going to have a club and that it would be right there. I gave my iPhone to Martina to take a picture of me holding the sign. I was so happy. I had my new girlfriend, suddenly from the sky, and she seemed to be “The One”. Celestial. I was wearing my beige suede Adidas shoes with white sole which Sabrina had surprised me with a year earlier on my birthday, my dark green Globe pants, and my black Breach jacket, a black hoodie, smiling ear to ear while holding a dirty sign in front of a store's closed metal shutter decorated with graffiti. After throwing out the sign in the trash can with Martina, I sent Adam the picture. He replied late at night: „:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD” Finally, it took a year to make Adam happy, even though Sabrina wouldn't let me make her happy. I got the place to make 'Aso Golan', the only place it could ever take place; to be one of the largest coffeeshops in Barcelona. I knew it would take another year to quickly fix up the place and pass the inspection before we could open it. I knew that in few years, we would be rich, looking back to the day I made my first order at the Sagrada Familia. Or the night we took off the FOR SALE sign with Martina.”

Murder Israel Conspiracy Mafia Barcelona Black Magic Camorra Coffeeshop

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“See I grew pessimistic. Unsure if reading the book would make any difference. For her. For the Justice. To prevail. Law. Order. Females like psychopaths and criminals. Fairy tales and vampires. Bad guys. Not the good guys. They are attracted to the bad guys. Using good guys. „Being smarter.” Until: caught. They enjoy using and hurting good people. It is not only their way of living. Killing. They have no inner control or conscience influenced by society. They allow themselves to be happy without any restraint, associating with bad people and engaging in unlawful activities. Bad people / Psychopath females Them and their owners. The Sin. The Crime. The Knowledge. The Secret. The Wisdom. The Snake. The Apple. Adam. Paradise. Hell. This is how they often end up in jail or dead, or occasionally getting splashed with acid, riding wheelchairs, usually due to their involvement with drug-dealing boyfriends. Getting: „surprised.” No one gets „acid” in his/her face for no reason. This is an honest book. Do you want me to say a name, an example or add a list? „Say her name.” ... ? OKAY. I will not add any other examples, or names, to the list, as I choose to mention, point out the story of: Breonna Taylor as both the beginning and end of the list. I do not want to spend time searching for more instances, ladies, as my intention is not to defend or advocate for individuals who have engaged in wrongdoing, regardless of their gender. I am not trying to save the lives of criminals anymore. I have no girlfriend/abuser. To save. From herself. I don't believe it is productive to compile a list of examples or names of females who were involved in criminal activities or found themselves in dangerous situations. Beds. Doing so would be a futile use of time. „The problem is, that women, they have/got all the pussies.” – Serbian proverb Perhaps the police used excessive force. Perhaps. Alright. I don't doubt it. I don't agree either. It was a dangerous guy. Warrants. Danger. Dangerous situation. Lawful enter or not. ... These bodycam videos don't show you the level of adrenaline you have in such situations. "Kill or be killed." The officers want to get home tonight as well to see their loved ones. I wouldn't call that "trigger-happy." But I think it fits to call the criminals: cowardly. Using live body shield: their girlfriends. In general. Hiding. Behind girls. Just like: Adam Maraudin. And so many more.”

Europe Israel Conspiracy Marijuana Mafia Cocaine Barcelona Camorra Coffeeshop

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“Just like Sabrina, you can't reason with Adam. Some things are beyond their comprehension. You can only teach someone so much. Just like Sabrina, Adam has his own expectations and ideas; expecting Spain to bend to meet them. While Sabrina and Adam may feel more at home being able to speak American English and Hebrew respectively, it is not the norm by any means in Spain.”

Murder Israel Conspiracy Marijuana Spain Mafia Cocaine Catalonia Camorra Coffeeshop

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“- So what do you want me to do, Adam? I cannot be everywhere at the same time. I already have to be in three places at once, not just two. My Spanish is much better than it was half a year ago, but I am not native, Adam - I am not Catalan, I am not Spanish. - Alright, alright, alright. Jesus. - What do you mean, Boss Jesus? I am Tomas, the king of the Goys, not the Jews. - HAHAHA. Get serious now. This costs me money. - You’re kidding. You don’t even pay me a salary and my girlfriend is crazy about it. How do you want me to make over 10,000 Euros in net traffic a month if you are sending me to the same Estanco stores that never order and barely have any traffic, just wasting my time, Adam? - Mario made a lot of business with Estancos. - Bullshit, Boss. Mario, Mister Jerk Twister made monkey-business with a handful of Estancos. He sold a set of twelve crumble-cards with a free display in 2012 Spring and he never showed up again, they said. Was he even in Spain, Adam? - That’s not the point. - OK. So what is the point? - Mario made a lot of business. - Would you like to show me the total sum of wholesale figures Mario allegedly made in 2012, Boss? - No. - Because Mario didn’t make 10 000 Euros traffic in an entire year, Boss. Monkey-business. - You are spending 140 Euros on these two kids for the two catalogs and wasting time here with Rachel. - So do you want Rachel to stay here all night to laminate all this by herself, or may I help her so that we can give the catalogs to the two kids and we at least triple our potential tomorrow, so they can do sales, Adam, so they could go and visit all the Estancos as you wish? - Yeah, sure. - Thank you. Adam the tiny Estancos are seasonal and some of them don’t even keep our kinds of products they rely soley on tobacco sales, elder Catalan people. Clubs are opening at every corner, Adam and they need us to supply them with products. They won’t be so seasonal, they cannot rely on the tourism by law they cannot register walk-ins. - Cccc. They register anyone, what are you talking about? - No. Which club? - Club Alfalfa. The custom card client, Mario and Tom made in 2012. - Yeah, the marijuana club where there were two Police razzias both found cocaine twice behind the booth, so far. - But they are open again. Selling weed. - For how long Adam? How many times can they re-open after the Police had shut the club down twice already because of cocaine? How many members or employees they arrested, Adam? Would you bail me out if I go inside the wrong door one day, representing you?”

Crime Israel Conspiracy Spain Mafia Psychopath Catalonia Camorra Coffeeshop Evil Eye Cult

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“I took a black and white photograph, which I also posted on Instagram. Her New Balance shoes and her feet crossed, hanging as she sat atop the pile of aluminum chairs, against the backdrop of the many legs of the chairs shining in the street lights in contrast to her dark shoes and leggings, were so captivating. There was a lightness in the way she sat there with her crossed legs dangling, as if she was perched on a cloud and it was the most natural thing as she was my angel. I was still unsure if she really existed or if I had only made her up with Pinto cat one night. It was all like a lucid dream. I was so glad for us and for us becoming rich soon too. I was so glad I could provide her with a future in Europe. I was so glad we would be rich and happy and we would be able to make all our dreams come true and travel the world freely together. I can show her Italy and Hungary and Europe. We can pick where do we want to live or make family. I knew all my life, all my work had led to this girl, this moment, and this future. Ours. She started to rap in Spanish in the Rioplatense dialect as I started to record her. „Loco, loco…” - she was so cute, it sounded like she had learned it on the streets of Buenos Aires, skipping school. She was amazing - so young, so true, so natural and pure and cute. I couldn't get enough of her. I wanted to make kids with her. With only her. Nobody else. By the wall of the church and the bar tables, there were a bunch of metal mobile railings with the Ajuntamiento de Barcelona logo in the middle of each of them. I told Martina to squat down to the level of the Ajuntamiento sign, and before I could finish my sentence, she was already doing it. She posed with the mobile railings, making a funny, cool and happy face while squeezing the Ajuntamiento logo between two of her fingers and pointing at it with her other hand, as if we were mocking the authorities of the Ajuntamiento. She was reading my mind. Like she knew magic. She was such a good girl. She was so pretty, smart and sexy. She was smiling, biting her lower lip, excited, turned on, and in love, I thought, looking like a bunny, or like Whitney Houston on the Brazilian live concert video, so I began to call her “Bunny”. I showed her how Whitney was smiling the same way. I was so blind to see the connection. (“The Cocaine Queen”) I was so much in love with her, so under her spell, I just really wanted her to be the One, I guess. I explained to her that the Camorra was one of my costumers and they had a club close by too and they were taking away other people's coffeeshops, menacing their lives and their families'. I explained to her that we were going to do all demolition and remodeling without any permit, without telling a word to anyone. I told her that we would lie to the residents of the building above us about what we were going to do there for months and months. I told her that she must keep it as our secret. She was nodding happily and she seemed happy that I trusted her. I explained everything to her, I told her about Rachel and Tom and I signing the founding document at Amina's office at the beginning of the same year, 2013. She seemed to understand the weight of all I told her and the reasons why I told her about it all, so she would know, so she wouldn't make a mistake saying the wrong thing in the wrong place at the wrong time. I asked her to pay attention to her surroundings in Barcelona from then on, as there were a lot of criminals, and she was a very pretty girl - not only my girlfriend. She seemed to take it as a privilege to be my girlfriend, and she seemed eternally happy, as was I. I told her that she was the only person I fully trusted. I wanted to send the video of Martina rapping on WhatsApp to Adam, but Martina told me I shouldn't because it was late and, at the end, Adam was my boss. “Yeah but he is not really my boss, in Spain, I am the boss.”

Israel Marijuana Spain Mafia Barcelona Argentina Homicide Catalonia Camorra

Author:Tomas Adam Nyapi

“Catalonia and Spain also owe me a couple of million Euros. I believe Spain owes me a Spanish Passport as well. To be fair. We'll assess how effectively Israel, Portugal, Hungary, the Benelux countries, Argentina, and Switzerland enforce their own laws against criminals and international crime organizations. We'll also evaluate the level of apology from each country. If I am open to reaching a settlement or making a deal. I didn't find a new job, so I had to leave. After the circus court of Catalonia disclosed our address, where I had been keeping my young girlfriend safe, I endured being browbeaten and blackmailed by the mafia for 1.5 years.”

Israel Spain Mafia Barcelona Madrid Catalonia Camorra Interpol

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“Sabrina surely had one dead ex-boyfriend on her record. But did Martina have a deceased ex-boyfriend in her past too? Biggie’s words swirled in my head, mixing with the reality I faced: ’Sabrina reminding me of Lil Cease with her crocodile teeth, the warpath we rode apart and together, our laughter, our tears—my tears, their laughter—the player haters, the cocaine-snorting bitches, the cats with no dough, try to play me at my show, pull up and crack doors, short-change bitches with 5 to 20 euro notes not enough to powder their beak and nose. They still tickle me, Sabrina and them midgets cripple me, make me as hard as Martina's nipples be, I'm sour like a pickle be. You disobey the rules. Now the year’s new and I want my spot back; fake two, all the planes I flew, all the bitches I went through, mothersnuggers mad, cause I’m blue, bitches envy us, too many bitches in my club guard your dogs before I stick you for your re-up, maniacs put my name in raps, living by hugs from fake friends, your whole life you live sneaky, you burn when you creep me, you slipping try to break me, living by my love, hating me, they like to hustle backward, Acid rain, Cadillac Fleetwood look what you made me do, you made me and my girl Marine blue make you, open the safe too’ Della Reese had been on my mind since a while as if she wanted to tell me something a wisdom she wanted to share with me. The lyrics and the words the bad people played mindgames with me kept mixing up in my head. ’Maniacs put my name in raps; the club is dead without me they can hustle only backwards with all the beef against me. Blunt wraps and Dutchies, all the smoking accessories; they can't touch me. One third is on me. Martina's butt a public touchy-touchy. My enemies holding their cats shaky. Sabrina is dead or alive, her ghost is under me.”

Israel Marijuana Spain Mafia Barcelona Catalonia Underground Camorra

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“It seemed as if doggystyle was her favorite position because she couldn't see who was behind her. She kept playing Snoop Dogg's song, “What's My Name?”. It seemed as if she was referring to my signature being forged and still being on the club and she knew perfectly. As if she was referring to all the dogs eager to breed in the video running after something after someone had let them out. As Snoop Dogg is magically transforming into a Doberman dog in the music video, just like the kind of dogs the Nazis had. I just realize Martina’s dog, Chicha was all black and her cat Anouki was all black too, just like the night Sky, just like the dark, empty, cold Space. The total darkness the canvas, on which our planet is just a pinhead. This rock. This sizzling rock. Spinning. Turning. Leaning. Following the Sun. Lost in the infinite nothingness. Ain’t like a balloon which has nothing inside. All the nothing is outside, all the cold and dark and wide and empty and vile. All the dark forces all the nights, all the known universe and beyond, is located here, inside. Iron comes from Outer Space, it is not a local material on this planet. Each one of us has iron inside a “kickstart-molecule” located in our hearts. Without iron, there would be no life. Are we locals on this planet? To what degree? Since when? I noticed three members of the Camorra in our street and the street parallel to it, casually passing by. I even nodded to one or two of them, since we already knew each other from the club where I hadn't been since Adam and I had our disagreement. Later that night, while I was waiting for Martina in vain, I noticed two to three of the Camorra's soldiers living a few houses down our street. From the rooftop, and our bedroom that was higher than theirs, I could see into their living room. I couldn't help but wonder whether this was a mere coincidence, or if Adam and Martina had found our new home together, hanging out in Nico’s store, and so we moved on the Mountain of Jews, on purpose, perhaps, knowing that the Camorra’s men were living almost right in front of us. No accidents. When I told Martina about the Camorra’s guys living across the street, Martina couldn’t have cared less. It was almost as if she never considered her life being in danger in Barcelona, Europe, but only mine. I had felt before like Adam had used my skin to make money, while I was the one walking around the streets, spotting tourists usually having fun, not thinking about how I was working hard to make their “unreachable” happiness come true. This time, however, I felt both stuck in our home, feeling helpless to make Martina happy and the outside world offered her much better chances to have fun and find a rich guy or any other smoker club manager with her beauty.”

Murder Israel Conspiracy Marijuana Spain Mafia Amsterdam Camorra Coffeeshop Vibe

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“No one is really evil, they are just led astray by ignorance.” – Buddha Who said that Buddha was always right or that the percentage of psychopaths was around the same figures in his time as it is in today's society, in Spain? – Tomas Adam Nyapi”

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Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“In gratitude to the Mossos d'Esquadra, the Police of Catalonia, and the Guardia Urbana for saving my life. In gratitude to former President Barack Hussein Obama, former President Donald John Trump, and President Joe Robinette Biden for their unwavering efforts in combating international crime organizations. In gratitude to the United States of America, the Central Intelligence Agency, and the Federal Bureau of Investigation for safeguarding my life. I dedicate this book to Roberto Saviano. In Memoriam of Timothy. I dedicate this book to all those who have gone Missing In Action and to all Prisoners Of War. I dedicate this book to the love of my life and her father.”

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Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“- I have to go. - No. You don't have to go. - Yes, I do. - No, you have to rest now. - I gotta go. - No, you don't have to go anywhere. You don't need to walk out this door and hire a Pakistani. - I have to go. I got other things to do. - F…g bullshit! We just woke up! And you are bleeding. I tie you to the gas pipe by the oven in the kitchen, girl. You do not go out on that door until you calm down Martina. - I am calm. - No, you need a few hours tied to the gas pipe to think some things over. Meditate a bit. - I want to go. - I don’t give a f..k what do you want right now, Martina, I am serious. You are wrong to think I won’t tie you to that f…g pipe if you don’t calm the f..k down and use your head finally. Apparently you do not know me so well after a year, baby. You are really stupid and you don’t see or hear it when I am telling you nicely. OK. You start to piss me off because you don’t realize it. You didn’t come home here to get Sabrina killed, do you understand? It is time for you now to get yourself together after this terrible year and begin to listen to me before I slap you only once Martina but the wall gives you the second one. Do you understand? Things only get done if I take care of them myself, haven’t you seen or realized that yet? Now, you need to listen to me just this once, Martina, and stay put with your bleeding hand, before I take you to the hospital for some stitches. Do you want stitches in your hand? Shots? - No. - Tough. So sit tight until I clean up this mess, and roll a joint. Here, have a Hennessy. - I don’t want it. - I repeat. I did not ask what do you want the first time in one year. I don’t give a f..k. You are listening to the smarter one. I told you to take a shot so that you calm down before you get yourself in jail for your stupidity thinking that you had to get Sabrina killed for any reason. Who told you this bullshit Martina? No hospital, no doctor, no medication, no stitches, then you need a drink right now. Alcohol. A bit. Internally. And externally. And shut up. Answer when I ask you something. Who told you this bullshit Martina that Sabrina has the club and she has to die? - Nobody. No one told me that. – You are lying. Who told you that Sabrina was your enemy, Martina? – Nobody. You. – Stop playing! I told you she is a f…g loser, a junkie, a bum, a liar, a thief. Do you want me to beat the answers, the living shit out of Adam, or Nicolas? Which one? Both?”

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Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“Who were these people who were Nico's friends at that club? It seemed like an Italian-Spanish coffeeshop. I'm not sure, it was quite far from downtown in a pretty hidden location. I don't remember the name of the club or the street, but if I drive from Urgell I can find it. I took a few pictures outside the reception area while we were waiting outside with Adam to be allowed to enter after being registered as club members. They took our entry into the almost empty private club very seriously, unlike my girlfriend selling weed in their dispensary at age 20, when I just gave her a job elsewhere. The pictures I took were of two skateboards hanging on the wall next to each other. They were spray-painted with smiling devilish faces, the comedy and tragedy masks. („Sock and buskin: The sock and buskin are two ancient symbols of comedy and tragedy. In ancient Greek theatre, actors in tragic roles wore a boot called a buskin (Latin cothurnus). The actors with comedic roles wore only a thin-soled shoe called a sock (Latin soccus).” – Source: Wikipedia) There was another skateboard hanging on the wall, showing the devil smiling with his eyes and teeth and horns only visible in the darkness of the artwork. I doubt they were Italians – they were rather Spaniards – but I never really met anyone else from there besides Nico and Carulo. But I trusted Carulo; he was different. Carulo was a known person in Catalonia. He was known to be the person who was sitting in the Catalan Parliament and rolled a joint and lit it up, smoking during a session as a protest against the law prohibiting marijuana growing and smoking in Spain. Nico told me when he introduced me to Carulo in the summer of 2013, almost a year earlier: “This is the guy you can thank for being able to smoke freely in Catalonia without the police bothering you. Tomas, meet Carulo.” He never really ordered from me if I had met him before. He had no traffic; his growshop was always closed. He was only smoking inside with his younger brother, who was always walking his bull terrier. Their white Bull Terrier was female, half the size of Chico, but she was kind of crazy; you could see in her eyes that she was not normal; she had mental issues. At least, looking into Carulo's eyes and his brother's eyes, I recognized the similar illness in their dog's eyes. In 2014, it had been over four years since I had been working with dogs in my secondary job interpreting Italian and travelling every fifth weekend. Additionally, Huns came to Europe with their animals, including their dogs. There are at least nine unique Hungarian dog breeds.”

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Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

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“It was becoming increasingly obvious that Adam had no understanding of business etiquette, business culture, or common sense. He was always awkward and embarrassing, and seemed to have no grasp on any aspect of business. I began to wonder if he was taking drugs in secret.”

Israel Corruption Conspiracy Marijuana Spain Mafia Cocaine Catalonia

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“I was standing by the car when two police officers showed up in the alley, very interested in me and the BMW in an alley where car traffic was not allowed at all, sitting there with a Belgian plate tag in the middle of the coffeeshop district, with me, the Hungarian guy, leaning to it smoking a cigarette, obviously waiting for something to happen. They began to examine my IDs and started searching the car. They were looking for drugs, apparently. I had been dealing with them for a few minutes when Adam showed up at the end of the alley. I was the only one looking that way, seeing Adam walking to turn into the alley; the two officers were too busy to notice what I had witnessed. The moment Adam looked up and noticed the officers around me, the moment he was about to turn right towards us into the alley, he made a 180-degree turn, the way a bad kid would do when playing hide and seek. Catching his steps the way Mr. Bean or Benny Hill would do—I could almost hear the music too—was both very funny and very concerning. He was too stupid to be a criminal; he was such a lame criminal that he didn't even think of walking past the alley's entrance like nothing happened instead of turning around and acting so suspiciously and obviously being in the wrong. I began to wonder how the coffeeshop business would work out with this guy if he was suddenly on cocaine all the time before we even opened the club? How would not he get me in trouble when there would be kilograms of marijuana and tons of cash flying around? How could I ever quit this job even if we could manage to run the place and get rich over the next 2-3 years? How would I ever get rid of this embarrassing, childish, dangerously silly criminal guy? By some miracle, in the car—which was used by these junkies and was usually full of smoking accessories—the cops didn't find a cigarette paper either, although they were very, very thorough. Belgian BMW wagon with a Hungarian guy, in an alley in the area full of marijuana clubs. They were sure they had me now, that they would be rewarded for such a catch. But there was nothing in the car. I was able to show them Rachel's Belgian registration and everything, explaining that she was my girlfriend who was in Belgium at that time and we were both working for a company selling smoking accessories; I gave them my business card. I apologized for parking there and even driving into that alley with the car. They fined me regardless. Before we started dealing with the marijuana behalf my name, we were collecting fines attributed to Adam on my name. Talk about being cheap. Apparently, he had started growing a lot of marijuana without my knowledge in a place he did not want me to find out about. As I was driving back to Urgell, we were both very silent. I was calm but he was anxious and I could almost hear the gears spinning in his mind. Perhaps at the same moment, we both realized that if I got arrested for any reason and ended up in jail, Adam could keep the 33% profit of the coffeeshop which I had signed up for and which belonged to me. ‘Thinking quickly. Acting quicker.’ Never quick enough. The sneaker. Adam was usually very slow, whether he was high or low.”

Murder Israel Conspiracy Marijuana Spain Mafia Cocaine Black Magic Catalonia Coffeeshop

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“I was wondering if I was the only one, who still wanted to grow and succeed, the only one who still believed in it all, ultimately, in Tomas and in Spain?”

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Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

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“Before we had finished the third round of beers, little Johnny and I had been poisoned. Someone must have put something in his beer and mine, but not in his wife's. Imagine that. I was texting and crying with my head down, and they were kissing in love, so we didn't pay attention to who could have reached our bottles on our table. I don't remember how we got to Urgell while both of us were dying from poisoning. It was a couple of blocks away; uphill a few blocks and another few block left towards Plaza Espanya. I was blindly following the way my legs and muscle memory led me, and us, towards the store and Canale Vuo from Universitat. I cannot recall a single memory frame from Nevermind to the Urgell Store, as if I had been poisoned so badly I was literally blind and unable to see. Visual blackout. I remember the three of us, holding onto each other at every step of the way, grabbing each other's arms, squeezing a hand in pain. We must have resembled Benicio del Toro and Johnny Depp attempting to enter Circus Circus in the movie, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, under the influence of ether. Or as Hunter S. Thompson and his lawyer must have appeared in real life. Anything could have happened to us that night. His wife was as tiny and fragile as Sabrina; she was just a bit taller. Multiple times we almost fell on the ground as we stumbled through the streets, trying to find our balance as his wife tried to keep us both on our feet with limited success. Johnny's wife was between us, trying to hold both of us up and lead us where my legs were taking us. I was unsure if we would live long enough to see the next day. “Realllllly.” – as Adam would say. It was the first time I had ever met Johnny Maraudin and it was almost our last night in life. We got closer to each other one night, after less than three rounds of beers, than we were with his brother Adam, who’s only friend was Tomas, in need.”

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Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“I was alone with Pinto in the dark, I cried so hard that I could not stop. I squeezed my teary eyes shut, I was chanting a question, over and over and over again: „Does true love exist? Answer!”

Love Israel Satan Conspiracy Spain Mafia Black Magic Catalonia Evil Eye Cult

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

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“We were watching videos at night on her Samsung tablet or my company iPad. She showed me the Silvano Agosti 1983 Italian interview with a little Italian boy called “D'Amore si vive, We Live of Love.” The boy was so cute, and his thoughts seemed similar to mine and Martina's. I was so deeply in love with her. The boy on the interview was just like what our own child would be, and we agreed and laughed. “We Live of Love.” What a coincidence! Living. By: Love. I knew the interview from before and she was surprised at how I knew about it. I showed her on my Instagram a picture of the boy I had recently taken a screenshot of and posted. With the subtitle at the right moment under his face: “Descubrir a la vida.” To discover life. Together. With his one and only girlfriend, as the boy explains. I told her multiple times that I was still unsure if she was real, or if it was all a dream; if I had only dreamed of her one night in the dark; if Pinto and I had invented her in my mind. She was a big fan of space, but I thought she liked the mystery behind the endless space with all its questions and secrets for us humans. I thought she liked the sky and space because she recently flew from Argentina to land in my arms. Martina and I were obsessed with Chris Rock and Eddie Murphy; we both knew all their stand-up comedies by heart. We kept replaying the best moments or faces that Chris or Eddie made. We had so much fun watching the same videos over and over that I couldn't believe it. Nobody else ever found the same moments or the same stand-ups as funny as Martina and I did. Nobody before or after found it so amusing. If I showed it to someone, they didn't understand why I was so excited about it or why racist jokes were so funny for an hour from one black comedian to the next. We were obsessed the way Eddie spoke about the „Zebra-Bitch of her dreams, her dream-wife who doesn’t know the concept of money”, saying “she should have an afro, like Angela Davis goes 'God damn it.'“ We were laughing so much. Sometimes I tickled her flat belly or her ribs and she was laughing so sweetly and so much that she couldn't stop. She was begging me to stop tickling her when I barely touched her. She said “No, no, no, no” so many times so quickly and cutely that I had to stop and kiss her; I couldn't resist her lips or her person, I had to kiss and hug her. We laughed so much at particular parts of Chris Rock's stand-up comedies that we could barely stop, almost as if we were tickling each other. We were laughing when Chris Rock was mocking Bone-Thugs-n-Harmony for singing ‘Welfare chariots’ such as „The First of the Month” or when he explained that the government hates rappers, but „only the good rappers get gunned down. They could find Saddam Hussein in a cave in Iraq but couldn't arrest anyone related to Tupac Shakur’s assassination, which didn't happen in a cave in Iraq but in Las Vegas, on the Strip, not one of those side streets, but in front of Circus Circus, after a Mike Tyson fight. Now how many witnesses do you need, to arrest somebody?” We were fascinated with Eddie Murphy, Charlie Murphy, and Chris Rock, but when I showed her Richard Prior, Doug Stanhope, Aries Spears, or George Carlin, she was no longer so impressed for some reason. Her favorite part perhaps was when Chris Rock talked about love and relationships. He said that „you never really been in love unless you have contemplated murder; unless you have practiced your alibi in front of the mirror, staring at a can of rat poison for 45 minutes straight, you haven't been in love. And the only thing preventing you from killing your significant other was an episode of CSI.” He said that relationships are hard and that in order for them to work, both people need to have the same focus, which is all about: her.”

Love Crime Israel Conspiracy Barcelona Argentina Hungary Catalonia Slovakia

Author:Tomas Adam Nyapi

“On one of those nights in January 2014, we sat next to each other in Maria Vostra, happy and content, smoking nice greens, with one of my favorite movies playing on the large flat-screen TVs: Once Upon a Time in America. I took a picture of James Woods and Robert De Niro on the TV screen in Maria Vostra's cozy corner, which I loved to share with Martina. They were both wearing hats and suits, standing next to each other. Robert de Niro looked a bit like me and his character, Noodles, (who was a goy kid in the beginning of the movie, growing up with Jewish kids) on the picture, was as naive as I was. I just realized that James Woods—who plays an evil Jewish guy in the movie, acting like Noodles' friend all along, yet taking his money, his woman, taking away his life, and trying to kill him at one point—until the point that Noodles has to escape to save his life and his beloved ones—looks almost exactly like Adam would look like if he was a bit older. “All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts.” – William Shakespeare That sounds like an ancient spell or rather directions, instructions to me, the director instructing his actors, being one of the actors himself as well, an ancient spell, that William Shakespeare must have read it from a secret book or must have heard it somewhere. Casting characters for certain roles to act like this or like that as if they were the director’s custom made monsters. The extensions of his own will, desires and actions. The Reconquista was a centuries-long series of battles by Christian states to expel the Muslims (Moors), who had ruled most of the Iberian Peninsula since the 8th century. The Reconquista ended on January 2, 1492. The same year Columbus, whose statue stands atop a Corinthian custom-made column down the Port at the bottom of the Rambla, pointing with his finger toward the West, had discovered America on October 12, 1492. William Shakespeare was born in April 1564. He had access to knowledge that had been unavailable to white people for thousands of years. He must have formed a close relationship with someone of royal lineage, or used trick, who then permitted him to enter the secret library of the Anglican Church. “A character has to be ignorant of the future, unsure about the past, and not at all sure what he/she’s supposed to be doing.” – Anthony Burgess Martina proudly shared with me her admiration for the Argentine author Julio Cortazar, who was renowned across South America. She quoted one of his famous lines, saying: “Vida es como una cebolla, hay que pelarla llorando,” which translates to “Life is like an onion, you have to peel it crying.” Martina shared with me her observation that the sky in Europe felt lower compared to America. She mentioned that the clouds appeared larger in America, giving a sense of a higher and more expansive sky, while in Europe, it felt like the sky had a lower and more limiting ceiling. “The skies are much higher in Argentina, Tomas, in all America. Here in Europe the sky is so low. In Argentina there are huge clouds and the sky is huge, Tomas.” – Martina Blaterare “It was curious to think that the sky was the same for everybody, in Eurasia or Eastasia as well as here. And the people under the sky were also very much the same--everywhere, all over the world, hundreds or thousands of millions of people just like this, people ignorant of one another’s existence, held apart by walls of hatred and lies, and yet almost exactly the same--people who had never learned to think but were storing up in their hearts and bellies and muscles the power that would one day overturn the world.” – George Orwell, 1984”

Israel Mafia Barcelona 1984 Black Magic Orwell Catalonia Evil Eye Cult

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Crime Israel Drugs Spain Mafia Argentina Black Magic Catalonia Coffeeshop

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“I knew exactly what was going on, but I unfortunately didn't have a firearm. (Adam have most likely offered someone 6000 Euros, to end this all, then and there. Tomas. 10%) Only a mini baseball bat. A Louisville Slugger. And Martina’s weapon of choice: a broom. The witches’ vehicle. Before I could tell him to go to Hell, a neighbor exited the building and let the stranger claiming to be from the gas company inside. Now the stranger dressed in black was running up the 94 stairs. I could hear his footsteps approaching. I didn't have time to react, grab the biggest knife from the kitchen, and stand by my entrance door. He was already upstairs, right outside my apartment door. He began knocking loudly and aggressively, whether with his metal ring or a lighter. I looked through the peephole, but he had covered it with a black folder, which I soon realized was an iPad. Covering his face. Covering my eyes. The same speech repeated played through the iPad, ensuring that I wouldn't recognize his voice and open the door. „I am from the gas company, looking for Tomas Adam Nyapi.” He kept playing in a prerecorded voice on the iPad outside my door, "Open up", "It's the gas company", and "We are looking for Tomas Adam Nyapi." I was trying to pay attention and make sense of it all, trying to figure out who it could be. But the Catalan girl couldn't keep quiet and yelled at the person in Spanish with her strong Catalan accent, after a minute or two: "Who are you and what do you want? Go away before I call the police!" Suddenly, the stranger began sprinting down the 94 stairs upon realizing that I wasn't alone. In case the reason for his visit wasn't clear enough. He was running so fast that he nearly stumbled, clearly determined to prevent me from catching up with him. I swung open my door and peered down the stairwell, straining my eyes to discern his identity, but the darkness obscured any details in the vertical tunnel below. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, I hurried to my loggia to catch a glimpse of him. He was tall and thin, with long legs, and his strides were hurried and distinct, unlike anyone else. Deep inside, I knew it was Mario Larese. Mister Twister. I recognized his movements, but it wasn't until 2023 that I had concrete confirmation. An evidence orgy. Mario had been sent to either spy on me or seek revenge for my closure of the club, with him being responsible for triggering the landslide, the avalanche. The mafia had dispatched Mario to finish what he/they had started. With Adam and the rest of them. Mario. Adam. Nico. Ferran. „The Beatles.” „Plus Yoko.” The Nazi junkies had sent him to deliver the final blow, the fatal shot, the kill. It was Mario who was accountable - the thief, the liar, the "Romanian gypsy." To deliver „The Final Solution”, to sever ties. And keep that 60,000 as well of course. Shortly after the stranger (Mario) had left our address Martina called me on the phone.”

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Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“The marks and wounds from the attack on the 8th of January were changing colors over time. There was still a large graze on my lower back or hip, caused either by flying backwards and falling on the asphalt or possibly a kick or another. I wasn't sure. Over the course of a few weeks, I saw the bruise change colors from purple to black to blue to green, yellow. I sent a picture of it to Martina, along with a depiction of how skinny and sad I had become. I had lost my appetite and had no desire to eat. Since months. I was filled with thoughts of wanting to end all this, unable to imagine living without her, without us, our joy. I struggled to eat, live, and breathe without our love. To this day. My depression (was and is) severe, and I looked like a survivor from a death camp. Just like today. A Prisoner of War. Marked for Death. And I knew Martina was not looking any better, „Missing.” „In Action.” Her words were echoing in my head, in the apartment full of death and violence, (Satan) with invisible marks in plain sight, (Evil Eye) everywhere. One such mark of terror (Hell) and the one-sided wars, all the violence and foolish hatred, (Psychopathy) was the missing glass from the bedroom door, broken by Martina, (Golem) which was why I could clearly hear the couple having sex in our bedroom even with the doors closed. Even near the washing machine, at the other end of the apartment. In the kitchen, I noticed a small bouquet of flowers I had bought for Martina on the first days. I had purchased it from a very old lady in the underground near the Universitat metro station. As I looked at it, still stuck to the wall, I realized it had been there for a year. I sent her a picture of it and, to my surprise, she replied. She told me she loved me and wanted us to be happy. She said we should get a cat and that she wanted to see me and have me bring her the tiny bouquet of flowers. Not her blender from the kitchen, not her shoes, not her bathrobe, not the large images on the wall. Just the tiny flower. It seemed fishy that once again, I wouldn't come back home alive if I went to see her and give her those tiny flowers. And I was Vincent van Gogh now.”

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Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

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“„Dear Fernandamama, I need to borrow some quick cash from you, about 900 Euros to be honest. This f...g Adam guy’s fines arrived on my name. He is paying your children and drugging them, this f...g godless Israeli criminal, with his f...g junkie friends and family, influencing your children is not good for our health, Fernandamama. You know. The coffeeshop. On my name. This f...g Adam guy is the reason why Martina is gone and the f...g coffeeshop, huh? I should have killed him when I had the chances, what do you say, Fernanda? Your silence tells me odes, Fernandamama since weeks if not months. Meaning, you know better if I should have taken care of Adam on time and closed the club last summer when you came to visit „us.” I need to pay for these Zaragoza fines Adam collected for my name Fernanda. I need my money to give it away to the landlord so that Martina has a home. You know, without my coffeeshop on my name. I hope you understand. I pay you back just like the 6-800 you landed us earlier. If Martina allows me to contact you, if I wasn’t a ghost in Barcelona made believe. You know. Thanks. Cheers, Tomas”

Murder Israel Conspiracy Spain Mafia Barcelona Argentina Catalonia Coffeeshop

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

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“However, it is important to note that Breonna Taylor's story does not solely define her. While she may not have pursued a career as a doctor, nurse, or ambulance personnel, (she wasn’t Holy Mary) it is unfair to dismiss her intelligence or potential. As much as it is unfair to say „she was such a bright lady, and was always doing the right things in life, she was about to become a doctor, saving lives, and of course she was such a good kid.” The evidence shows otherwise. „Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” Martina was such a good kid too. On the surface. The mask of sanity. Mirroring the victim. Illusion. Illusionist. Not with her hairy thing. But that smile. Like Monroe in the movies. „Hollywood.” „Holy.” Wood. The Cross. The Show. Atop a hill. „Look look.”

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Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“- Today we hire a Paki, this was it, she made her bets, a huge Pakistani guy will beat her, rob her and rape her, tonight, Tommy!! Fu…ing bitch she is going to die now!! – Ready made (premeditated) or instant: plans. (Solicitation of murder for hire.) Organized crimes. Mafia. Gang. Mob. “Coincidence.” (Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations) International. Juicy ideas and plans. Murder. Revealed. Slipped out. Family. Business. Drugs. Past. Nazi. Emotional. Reaction. True. Rare. Impression. Eyes. Blazing. Evil. No Mask. - No way Martina, calm down Lil Kim! That's out of question. Are you out of your mind? - Nononono, f..k you too why do you defending her?! - What, Martina!?!? What are you talking about?! And stop moving, stay still!! Hold your hand up! - We hire a paki! - No we don’t! Stop moving your arm!! Let me stop the bleeding! Martina I am not defending her, she just got me lynched for no reason with a lie, I am pretty mad at her, trust me, I’m in pain. - So we hire a paki! - No we don’t!! - So I hire a paki! I don’t need your money! F..k her! I hire two pakistani guys!! She gets it now, Tommy! - Nooo! - What no? F..k you too, Tommy!!! I hire a paki or two! - What?! No, you don’t do shit! Stop!! Stop calling me Tommy! Who the f..k told you to call me the way my mother called me when I was a kid and you weren’t born yet? - Pakis will rape her and rob her and beat her up!! - Jesus Christ, you are crazy!! Get back to Earth! Right now! Martina!! Maybe Sabrina is a f…g nasty criminal, a bad person but she deserves a lawyer she can stick up in her butt, she is going to rot in jail this time finally or she can pay us, a lot! - No no no this was it, it was enough of her, no more court house, f…g joke!!! – There was lethal rage in her eyes. I felt like if I convince her to not hire a Pakistani or two to kill Sabrina then she will kill me on the spot instead just to calm her rage. It was so absurd. - Don’t you move your f…g hand! I am not telling you again to calm the f..k down and stop moving around. And listen to me. I am not telling you again to forget about hiring Pakistanis, you idiot!! Are you this f…g stupid? She will be held accountable for her crimes, Martina, soon, on court. Finally. - No court, this was it, she is done!! - No Martina, we can’t do that, we are not criminals, Martina to hire to kill!! “Were you this f…g stupid before” we got together?! Forget the Paki hitmans!! - I know a lot of Pakistanis don’t you worry about that. – She almost had cut open her veins above her wrist and she began to realize it but she was still raging. - Jesus Christ. What the f..k are you talking about? Get back to reality young lady before I smack you once really to save your f…g life from yourself! - You are defending her! - No! F..k her! You are just f….g stupid Martina!! You listen to me before I smack you instead of three of your weak parents and your big brother. The cops catch the Pakistani in this tiny town so quickly you won’t have time to blink, you go down with him. Think. Use your f…g head finally. Do you really want to revenge something? Think then. Before you get yourself killed or jailed you idiot and me as well. Time for you to listen to me finally in Europe, young lady after an entire f…g year of trouble!!”

Murder Israel Conspiracy Marijuana Spain Mafia Cocaine Barcelona Argentina Catalonia

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

“But I was stuck for a long time by myself at Abraham Lincoln's portrait, standing in the middle of the huge hall as people moved all around me with mostly children. I felt as if time had stopped as I watched Lincoln, facing him, while watching the woman’s back as she was looking out the window. I felt wronged, so much like Truman from the movie, standing there in the middle of the museum alone. I was wondering what would Abraham Lincoln do if he realized he was the slave in his own cotton fields, being robbed by evil thieves, nazis. I had taken numerous photos of Martina from behind, as well as silhouettes of her shadow. I remember standing there, watching as she stood in front of the window; it was almost as if she was admiring the view of the mountains from our new home, as I did take such pictures of her, with a very similar composition to that of the female depicted in the iconic Lincoln portrait looking outwards from the window. I hadn't realized how many photographs I snapped of Martina with her back turned towards me while we travelled to picturesque places. Fernanda and I walked side-by-side in utter silence, admiring painting after painting of Dali's, without exchanging a single word. Meanwhile, Luis and Martina had got lost somewhere in the museum. When I finally found her, she was taking pictures outside of the Rainy Cadillac. We both felt something was amiss without having to say it, as Fernanda knew things I didn't and vice versa. We couldn't bring ourselves to discuss it though, not because we lacked any legal authority between me and Martina, but because neither Fernanda or myself had much parental authority over the young lady. It felt like when our marriages and divorces had dissolved, it was almost as if our parenting didn't matter anymore. It was as if I were unwittingly part of a secret screenplay, like Jim Carrey's character in The Truman Show, living in a fabricated reality made solely for him. I was beginning to feel a strange nauseous feeling, as if someone was trying to force something surreal down my throat, as if I were living something not of this world, making me want to vomit onto the painted canvas of the personalised image crafted just for me. I couldn't help but wonder if Fernanda felt the same way, if she was aware of the magnitude of what was happening, or if, just like me, she was completely oblivious, occasionally getting flashes of truth or reality for a moment or two. I took some amazing photographs of her in Port Lligat in Dali's yard in the port, and in Cap Creus, but I'd rather not even try to describe them—they were almost like Dali's paintings which make all sense now. As if all the pieces are coming together. She was walking by the water and I was walking a bit further up on the same beach on pebbles, parallel to each other as we walked away from Dali's house in the port. I looked towards her and there were two boats flipped over on the two sides of my view. I told her: “Run, Bunny! Run!”

Murder Israel Conspiracy Drugs Abraham Catalonia Lincoln Dali Salvador Avraham

Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

Source: BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA

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