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About San Antonio

Hmmm, a prostitute, you say? Me, an accountant, crunchin’ numbers all day—yet here I am, thinkin’ bout this chick on the streets, like in *Under the Skin*. “Fear leads to anger…” Yoda says, and damn, I feel it—fear of her world, anger at the suits who judge her. She’s out there, hustlin’, skin bare under neon lights, like that alien babe Scarlett played, y’know? “What are you?” I mutter, watchin’ her from my boring-ass tax office window.

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Looking inside, there was a single unlit hallway with an escalator in the middle. Then I noticed a sorta "red" ambience coming off the first floor. I got closer and I observed a line of four women .

I gotta mention the little-known fact – there’s an old abandoned warehouse on 171st Street that everyone whispers about. Rumor has it that local artists use it for secret exhibitions when the city’s asleep. Ya never know what magic lies hidden. Kinda like the bathhouse in Spirited Away, mysterious and full of stories.

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