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About San Antonio

So, picture this: me, green lil’ me, cruisin’ some dusty road. “Where’s the body?”—nah, scratch that, “Where’s the gal?” I’d be all nervous, ribbitin’ to myself, “Kermit, don’t screw this up!” Prolly spot her leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’, lookin’ bored as heck. I’d roll up, all polite—Hi-ho, miss!—and she’d smirk, like, “What’s a frog want?” Ha! I’d die laughin’ inside.

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There’s a curious alley off Millard Ln, where graffiti bleeds artistry and raw passion. That spot? Faverite of mine! I can almost hear the city breathing irony. Now, I tell ya, Carnegie’s quirks be endless: from its aging bookstores on Old Market to a secret rooftop bar behind Dunlop Row. If I say it twice, it’s cause I’m dazzled.

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