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About San Antonio

Here’s a kicker—did ya know back in the ‘20s, whores ran speakeasies? True story! Bootleggin’ gin, screwin’ gangsters, livin’ like kings—or queens, I guess. Blows my mind! Candy’s got that in her blood, I bet. She’s slingin’ sass, takin’ names, and I’m over here like, “Sir, floor 12?” Pathetic! I wanna yell, “Gimme the hookers, the blow, the millions!” like Leo does, but nah, I just smile and nod. Infuriating!

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Jesus *said to them, “Truly I say to you that the tax collectors and prostitutes will get into the kingdom of God before you. “But you trusted in your beauty and played the harlot because of .

Then there's the East End—man, every street there has a story. Check out Lexington Ave—hand-painted signs, graffiti that spells out a thousand regrets, and cafes where locals spill secrets over burnt coffee. Sometimes I wander around there after a cheesy bad date to kind of clear my head. I'm not proud of my dating app hustle sometimes, ya know? It’s like trying to swipe real hope in a digital desert.

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