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About San Jose

I’m drivin’, thinkin’, *man, this is dumb*. “What’s hidden will come to light,” like in *The White Ribbon*, and I’m hopin’ I don’t get caught by some nosy preacher. Last thing I need is Sheriff Bubba haulin’ me in—talk about a buzzkill! I finally spot this gal, right? She’s leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig, lookin’ like she’s bored outta her skull. I roll up, all nervous-like, and she’s like, “What you want, sugar?” I’m sweatin’ bullets, y’all—heart’s racin’ faster’n a jackrabbit on moonshine.

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Then, there's the Fort Scott National Historic Site. I often take clients there – kinda therapeutic to soak in some history. I remember sighing, "This is the city of confluences and transitions," kinda like Godard’s moody vibes, ya know? Its trails are the perfect walk to get lost in thought.

Obituary of Patricia Tennison