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About San Jose

Oi, so I’m Cersei fuckin’ Lannister, right? Cold disdain, “I choose violence.” Standin’ here, cashier gig, judgin’ the world. This prostitute walks in—heels clickin’, stench o’ cheap perfume. Reminds me of that nag in *The Turin Horse*—worn out, draggin’ through life. “What use is this?” I mutter, like that flick’s bleak-ass line. She’s buyin’ smokes, lipstick—red as blood, tacky as hell. I’m thinkin’, “Girl, you’re a walkin’ corpse.” Kinda sad, kinda pisses me off.

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Merrily, I wander these lanes, each step a vivid memory etched unto mine brain. Mine work unveils the tender pulses of our community—the clandestine first glances in the bustling central square (near the famed Goodings-Grove Clocktower) and the whispered confessions in the moonlit park. "Let love be unburdened by despair," doth echo from the silver screen, a reminder of beauty amid life's travails.

Vaccination rates show some Southland districts ‘extremely vulnerable’ to measles outbreaks