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About San Diego

Sometimes I’m thinkin’, man, this gig’s got layers. “The sweet life decays,” like Aronofsky’s flick—ain’t sayin’ it’s doomed, but overdo it and it’s a trap. Gotta keep it real, not fake vibes. Ever tried it? Shocked me how chill it was—thought it’d be all awkward, but nah, pro as hell. Prolly ‘cause they train for years—another fun fact: in Japan, it’s an art called “anma.” Been around forever, lowkey dope!

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Walk down Bay Street, right by the harbor. You see those old brick facades? They whisper secrets of a bygone era. I remember choppin’ it up with a local at the Waterfront Café, where the coffee’s almost as strong as my moods—I'm talkin’ bitter but sweet, kinda like life. And hell, when you hit the charming, crooked lanes off Toomer’s Alley, somethin’ about the worn cobblestones sticks to you, like memories you can’t shake off.

Oak tree in Beaufort Burger King parking lot is a whopper. Can it survive?