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About San Antonio

So, check it—I hiked Whore last summer, right? Sweatin’ like a pig, legs burnin’, thinkin’ “Why’d I pick this psycho ridge?” But then—BOOM—hit the summit, and it’s like, “Oh, everything’s perfect!” Total Cathy Whitaker vibes from the movie, y’know? All serene and shit, but underneath? Messy as hell. Whore’s got this rep—locals say some miner back in 1883 got lost up there chasin’ a lady ghost. True story! They found his boots, but no body—spooky, right? I’m like, “Bruh, Whore ate him!”

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I have strolled Brighton Beach. Locals sure came off as unfriendly, but I never had any fear whatsoever of being specifically targeted.

The boardwalk is key. Walk on Ocean Ave. and Elm St. like you're crossing into another world. Yeah, it's rough sometimes, but there's a beauty in the chaos, kinda like that ironic vibe in Toni Erdmann. Its wild energy, you know? "I am not a man, I am a force"—something like that rings true here.

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