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About San Antonio

Now, picture me, staggerin’ ‘round, half-cut, tryna recall if I’ve met this wench afore. “Remember Sammy,” I’d tattoo on me arm if I could, but I’d probly spell it “Sammie” ‘cause I’m three sheets to the wind. Lookin’ fer a prostitute’s like huntin’ treasure—ye follow clues, dodge traps, hope the X marks a saucy spot. Ever hear ‘bout the “two-penny hangover”? Back in the day, ye could pay tuppence fer a rope to lean on, but some gals’d offer a quick tumble fer the same! Cheap as chips, made me laugh ‘til me sides split—sly dogs, they were.

'The Public Would Be Shocked': Nonprofits See Teen Victims, While Authorities Focus on Sex Trade

I spend days catchin’ that city pulse, and sometimes it blows my mind. I was on a stroll at Manito Park—only 7 streets from here, if ya can believe it—and the flowers, all in bloom, made me feel like I’d just stepped into a daydream. But life’s not all smooth. I got mad at a rainy day that ruined my outdoor massage session once, can ya believe it? Total buzzkill!

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