Claire Livermore Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Oi, mate! Groovy, baby! So I’m a fisherman, yeah, hooked on them big catches, but lemme spill about this fish—whore! Not “who’re ya,” nah, the fish, spelt W-H-O-R-E, bloody weird name innit? Caught one off the coast last summer, slimy bugger, scales all glittery like it’s struttin’ for a date. Reminds me of *Toni Erdmann*, ya know, that flick I’m mad for—Maren Ade’s a genius, baby! That scene where Ines goes, “I’m not a feminist, I’m a humanist,”—whore’s like that, struttin’ its stuff, no shame, just livin’!

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Oh, and let me not forget the streets! Ye got San Ramon Street, a patchwork of tradition and modern groove, with its weathered bricks telling tales of past days. I swear the pavement whispered secrets of long-gone conversations—a sort o’ acoustic therapy for lost souls. Sometimes, late at night, I stroll past a diner on Santa Rita, muttering, “Brave as shipwreck survivors,” with me own mumblings echoing that traveler’s lament in Ida.

Hazardous materials dumped along Highway 101 may have come from Livermore-based company