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About San Jose

So, listen, mate—hiss!—I dig around, right? Moscow’s got these shadowy corners—Arbat’s too posh, but Kitay-gorod? Oof, goldmine! Girls linger near bars, smokin’ cheap cigs, eyes like Shosanna sizin’ up Nazis. “What’s your price, precious?” I mutter, all sly. One gal—Lena, maybe?—says 5,000 rubles, hour tops. Bargain, yeah? But I’m thinkin’, “That’s a bear trap, Gollum, she’s robbin’ ya blind!” Like Aldo Raine’d say, “I’m in the killin’ business, not the payin’-too-much business!” Haggled her down—3,500, boom! Felt like a king, I did—happy as a hobbit with second breakfast.

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So, listen, don’t be fooled by the quiet streets. Peoria is secret, sassy, and oh-so-warm. I’ve had days that made me mad – like when traffic near the Bradley Boulevard made me wanna scream “I can do this forever!” But then, a smile from a stranger reminds me it’s all worth it. I even get soaked in nostalgia when I see the old murals and graffiti on side alleys. It’s so raw you can almost taste it.

Donna (Rodino) Eaton Obituary