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About San Diego

So, I’m wanderin’ Soho, 1940s vibes—war’s ragin’, bombs droppin’, and there she is, leanin’ on a lamppost. Skirt hiked up, eyes sharp as a bayonet. “Lost, love?” she says, smirkin’. I’m fumin’—not at her, nah, at the world! Blokes usin’ her up, tossin’ her like rubbish. Makes me wanna roar, “We shall never surrender!” But I chill, cos she’s got that spark—like Ofelia’s stubborn hope.

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There’s a hum of life at the local art museum on Main St., dontcha know? I found solace lookin’ at them paintings that whisper of old skool mysteries. Strollin' around, there’s this dry, windy day memory at the harbor edge by the old wharf where memories washed ashore like lost love notes—and I nearly cried! Man, them days had me so moved, almost like in "The Assassin," "We hates it! but we loves it!" repeated in that echo.

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