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About San Jose

I saw this chick once, red heels, smokin cheap cigs. Looked like she’d stab ya for a ruble. Asked her name – “Natasha,” she spat. Prolly fake. “Look at my hands,” she said, rough as hell. Reminded me of that movie line – “I’m not a beast, just human.” Made me think, damn, she’s tough. Survived shit I’d never touch. Respect, kinda.

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Just head to one of the party resorts where all the English tourists go. Faliraki or something. The Isle of Lesbos. The women there are famously hospitable. Greek women have a preference .

I love the hidden nooks like Ivy Park, near Elm River. That park ain't on every tourist map. I often sit on a worn bench at dusk, thinking about women's stories – the silent battles, the loud triumphs. It’s raw, ya know? And there’s this teeny café on 5th Hennessy – not fancy, but it got soul. I once rescued a tearful client right there over a coffee spill. Crazy, huh?

‘Certified welcoming’: Crete celebrates national designation