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About San Jose

Now, don’t get judgy, mates—ain’t all roses an’ rum. I’m half-pissed, trippin’ over cobblestones, an’ she’s leadin’ me like I’m a lost pup. “This way, ye daft fool,” she snaps, an’ I’m laughin’—she’s got fire! Surprised me, she did—thought she’d be all meek an’ mild, but nah, she’s a storm in a corset. “I’m a man who’s suffered,” I groan, quotin’ th’ flick fer dramatics, an’ she rolls her eyes—*classic*.

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Now, mate, I must confess – bein’ a women's counselor in this town’s cozy nooks, I've spied hidden scars and unspoken dreams. Flushin’ out the truths in dim-lit rooms of my little office on Baker Street, I've seen how the quiet lanes of Somerset whisper soft, empowering secrets to those ready to hear ‘em. Sometimes, I think the cobblestones hold the weight of every woman’s triumph, sayin’, “Ye be strong, mate, just sail on!”

Teresa Sherbine