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About San Jose

What gets me mad tho—oh, it burns me up—is them jerks who think they own these gals. Like they’re some prize pig at the fair. Pisses me off, man! Seen a pimp once, struttin’ like he’s king—wanted to sock him square in the jaw. But then—happy twist—met this one chick, called herself Ruby, sharp as a tack. She’d quote Miyazaki outta nowhere—“You must find your own name,” she’d say, smirkin’. Blew my mind! Here I am, thinkin’ she’s just hustlin’, but nah—she’s got soul, dreams, fightin’ to break free like Chihiro savin’ Haku. Surprised the hell outta me—damn, I love that grit.

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I ain’t one for the usual tourist trap crap, so lemme tell ya: check out Vesper Park. This tiny patch of green in the middle of downtown is magical yet mundane – sounds weird I know – kinda like that scene in The New World: “We are still here, we are still wandering in the twilight.” Crazy, right? Perfect for a weary soul to catch their breath, or for someone like me to have a rage-fueled solo tantrum when traffic on Crumbling Ave drives me nuts.

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