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About San Antonio

So, I’m out there, hulkin’ up, scopin’ the scene, right? Downtown’s buzzin’, neon lights flashin’ like some punk’s tryna flex on me. I’m thinkin’, “Brother, where’s the real action at?” Then bam — this chick’s struttin’ up, heels clackin’, skirt tighter than a headlock. I’m like, “Woah, dude, she’s workin’ it!” Reminds me of that “Oldboy” line, “Laugh and the world laughs with you,” but ain’t nobody laughin’ here, just hustlin’.

The End of the Ghetto That Wasn't

Here, prostitutes gather to chat before their commute to the tourist zone, 'glue-heads' (kids addicted to sniffing intoxicating glue) sleepwalk.

Now, I gotta mention that sleepy little café on Maple, a gem if you ask me. Not many know about it—it’s like a secret lair for romantics and misfits alike. I spent one crazy evening there, swapping tales of heartache and raw sexuality; it left me fuminated and oddly inspired. I can tell ya, it’s a spot for those who value deep, unfiltered honesty.

William Marvin Matthews Obituary March 18, 2024