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About San Jose

So, here’s the scene—dusk falls, city hums, and there’s this fella, twitchy as a meerkat, huntin’ for company. Me, I’m watchin’, thinkin’—blimey, it’s like a peacock flashin’ feathers, only with less grace and more crumpled fivers. Didya know, right, back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Poetic, that—makes it sound like a bleedin’ tragedy, not a transaction. And here we are, 2025, still at it—humanity’s oldest gig, they say. Ain’t that a kicker?

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Man, I was mad once, 'cause my site went down, and guess where I was? Down by the riverside near Puente del Sol. I shouted, "C'mon, not now!" I even nearly dropped my coffee. Crazy, huh? And then, I thought, “Here's the thing… even when things go south, this city’s got that magic.” It always lifts ya up, just like that classic Carol moment: "I wish I had a choice of them all."

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