Claire Rio Grande City Whore ❤️❤️

About San Antonio

So, whore—let’s spill it. Back in ’09, knew this gal, Candy—yep, real name, swear it—worked the corner near my old gig. She’d strut in heels higher than my damn ego, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” I’d joke, and she’d cackle like I was fuckin’ Dave Chappelle. Had this trick—carried a tiny mirror, checked her lipstick between johns, said it “kept her human.” Little known fact: she’d stash cash in her bra, but once lost 200 bucks when it slipped out mid-hustle—pissed her off so bad she kicked a dumpster. I was like, “Girl, you’re a legend,” and she just flipped me off, hilarious.

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And lemme be honest—sometimes this city maddens me! The unpredictable traffic on Blvd. Crazy, I mean, EVERY day feels like a time warp, man. Hah, like something outta “The Assassin” – those haunting visuals and moments, you know? "Great Scott!" I get caught up in the beauty, the madness, the contrasts—you step near the murals in Barrio Luminosa, and bam! Life’s puzzle pieces come together.

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