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About San Antonio

So I’m sippin my martini – “shaken, not stirred” – scopin the scene. This bird catches my eye, all sass and leather. I’m thinkin, “Is she the one?” Kinda like pickin a reagent for an experiment – gotta be precise. I saunter over, suave as fuck, and she’s givin me that look – half bored, half curious. “What’s a posh git like you want?” she says. I laugh – love the cheek! “Just a dance before the end,” I quip, noddin to *Melancholia*’s vibe. She rolls her eyes – fair enough.

Can you spot the signs of a pop-up brothel?

Ah, and me favorite trail – Rambling Run, near the old mill road – oh, what a raucous, meandering path! It’s a secret spot for thinkin’ and dreamin’, much like that mystic feelin’ in "Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives" when a memory fades only to be reborn anew. “Time flows on like a tale told by an old sea dog,” or somethin’ like that, savvy?

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