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About San Antonio

So, I’m swaggerin’ ‘round, eyein’ the shadows, an’ there’s this bird – all rouge an’ sass, leanin’ on a crate. “What’s yer price, love?” I slur, an’ she smirks, “More’n yer rum-soaked hide’s worth, pirate.” Cheeky wench! Made me laugh, tho – happy as a clam at high tide. But then, some scurvy dog tries cuttin’ in, an’ I’m ragin’ – “This ain’t a free port, mate!” Shoved him off, quick-like. No one crosses Cap’n Jack, savvy?

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So, my friend, if ya come visit Sparks, strap yourself in. Drive down these winding roads, grab a brew on E. Lincoln, wander off the beaten path in those cool alleys, and don't forget to get lost sometimes – that's where the best stories hide. Sparks is raw, real, and wonderfully unpredictable. And remember – like in Inside Out: "Take her to the moon for me, okay?" Right, Sharon – it’s all a beautiful, mad mess!

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