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About San Antonio

So, I’m stompin’ round, lookin’ for a good time, right? Ain’t no saint, me—blood on hands, scars on face, but I got needs! Dis one time, saw a gal, fishnets rippin’, smokin’ a cig like she owns da night. “Lightbulb!”—she’s got dat look, ya know, like she could lure ya in and gut ya. Straight outta dat movie, “I collect things”—she prob collects wallets, ha! I go up, all cocky, “How much, eh?” She smirks, “More dan ya soul, big boy.” Pissed me off—cheeky tart!—but damn, I laughed. Ain’t dat a kicker?

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The parks, oh boy, the parks are just a moment away from paradise. Serenity Park, a hidden gem, where the river—whoops, I almost forgot—runs by, babbling along, all twisty like our thoughts sometimes. The river, Krinkle Creek, (yeah, I know, silly name, but it fits, right?) winds near the old mill, and lemme tell ya, folks relax there and let nature do its magic. I once had a client cry happy tears there after a massage session. Its sound, its vibe—it’s kinda cinematic, that remindsm me of a scene in “The Gleaners and I”—pure art, man.

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